You, Me and Delta
by Meg Fiction
Summary: Originally a one-shot titled "Alive." As part two comes to a close, part three picks up as Melanie Santiago is forced to face more trouble, drama, and eventually, a choice. She'd more than proven herself on the battlefield. But no weapon could help her with this.
1. Chapter 1

**EDIT, FEBRUARY 2013: If you're a new reader, please read **_**this**_** little note first. **

**Before you trudge through my first few chapters, take into consideration that when originally published, this story was only supposed to consist of a single chapter (which is mediocre at best.) And then after some unexpected popularity, I decided to continue it with no plan whatsoever. **

**Furthermore, I would also like to beg you to resist judging the rest of the story based off of this chapter, or the few after this. My writing skills have increased **_**exponentially **_**since I first started this story, and though they are still not the best, I promise they're better than what you will witness in the chapter below. As the chapters go on, there is a slow but noticeable change in quality with each post. **

**Once this story is complete, I will be editing it at insane levels, not to change the story, but to simply make it better. But for now, I have to power on towards the end before I can do any of that. **

**Thank you and enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter One: Alive<strong>

This day had instantly gone from bad-to so much worse.

All I wanted to do was go home, take a shower, eat, and then sleep off the roughest day of my COG career yet. Was that too normal to ask for?

Considering the crazy guys chasing me, it probably was.

They were COG soldiers too. But they were all about a year older than me, taller than me, they outnumbered me, and they were drunk. Alcohol and reckless new soldiers did _not_ mix. I was in that bar for ten minutes tops, wanting to grab a quick drink before I started my walk home. I hadn't even been able to order yet when one of the drunken rookies came over and tried to get a quick feel.

There was a line of shot glass to my left, lined up on the bar. They were all filled with something strong, and before I could get a hold of my anger, the contents of one of them was thrown back into the eyes of the asshole behind me. Of course, this set him off. Then his drunk friends got pissed because _I_ was pissed, and now to avoid an all-out brawl in the middle of the street, I was running. Hopefully, the four men behind me would eventually sober up and back off, because there was no way I'd be able to go home without letting them know where I lived.

I wanted to tell myself that I could take them. Considering their intoxication, there was a_ slight_ chance I could. But there was no way I was risking my rank, health or honor trying to fight off these wasted bastards in front of a bunch of Stranded.

Hence my hasty escape that was still in progress.

"Get back here, you bitch!" That was the guy who got the alcohol to the eyes. He sounded furious. The pounding sound of four angry, sprinting men in boots hurried after me, making it impossible to slow. Did being drunk make men faster or something? What the hell?

We were streaking through complicated alleys of the inner city. I'd chosen this way in hopes I'd be able to lose the assholes, but so far it wasn't working.

We reached a small street that ran behind a couple of old apartment buildings, giving me a chance to reach full speed without having to worry about jumping over crap. The four guys trailed close behind, maybe fifty yards away.

Making a split decision, I suddenly took a sharp right turn, almost busting my ass in the process. I was now running down another alley that led out into the sidewalk and the main street.

When I'd almost reached the end of the alley without hearing my trackers behind me, I decided to throw a hopeful glance over my shoulder. To my delight, they were nowhere to be found. This was finally my chance to-

_SMACK!_

The remaining air in my lungs was violently forced out of me as I ran straight into a huge ass man-three times the size of anyone pursuing me now.

I immediately crumpled to the concrete, but the guy I'd almost tackled didn't even budge. "Son of a bitch!" I wheezed out, rolling over onto my hands and knees and gasping for air. "I'm so sorry! I didn't even see you!"

The man towering over me let out a growl, low and rough. "Damn girl, what the hell are you running from?" He asked, grabbing my arm and yanking me to my feet.

I shook my head, a little disoriented and still out of breath. "Just…some drunk…assholes…no big deal." I braced myself against my knees and focused on breathing.

"Drunk assholes?" The guy lifted an eyebrow. "You don't look like a girl that likes getting into trouble." What he meant to say was that I didn't look like a stripper, I didn't look homeless, I wasn't wasted off my ass, I wasn't strung out, and I didn't smell like cigarettes.

"Yeah, well, you'd be surprised," I mumbled as the said assholes came screaming and shouting down the alley I'd just emerged from.

Big, gruff guy turned towards the drunkards and a scowl spread across his lips. "Let me guess," he said. "Drunk rooks lookin' for trouble?"

My eyes widened slightly as I nodded. "Spot on. Good guess." But now that I finally got a good glance at him, this guy was obviously a COG soldier himself. How did I not realize it when I first rammed into him? He was huge! And from the looks of it, it was all muscle from head to toe. He was dressed in boots, cargo pants and a t-shirt. Then to top off the COG soldier look, he wore a black bandana, and his face was decorated with battle scars.

He turned his eyes down to me, giving me a suspicious look. "And you?"

I moved to look at the angry men who had slowed to a jog from the sight of the man next to me. "Sober rook, _running_ from trouble." That answer seemed to satisfy him because he then sighed, and side-stepped to where he stood between me and my followers.

"What are you doing?" I hissed at him, feeling like a child as he moved me out of the way.

The man ignored me completely. "What the hell do you guys want?" he shouted at the angry mob, his voice rough and full of authority that was impossible to stand against.

Their leader was obviously still buzzed because he decided that this was a good time to be arrogant. "And who the fuck's asking?"

The man's blue eyes narrowed dangerously, and I the muscles in his neck tensed. "Marcus Fenix. But I suggest you call me Sergeant Fenix unless you want a boot up your ass, rooky."

There was a moment as those words sunk in with everyone present. The first thought that popped into my mind was _"Oh shit."_ The first thoughts of the other guys were very similar.

"Um, I…uh," The leader of the angry pack was finally trying to put together a sober thought for the first time that night. I did my best to not flat out laugh at how pale his face was, or how bad his knees were shaking.

"Just a misunderstanding!" A guy in the back piped up. The last two nodded their heads vigorously.

"A misunderstanding, huh?" Marcus said, crossing his arms. "Then I assume you fuckwads will be able to pick up what honor you have left and leave this situation behind you?" Only a man with a death wish would oppose Marcus Fenix at this point. I didn't know him personally, but I'd heard the stories, and I knew his reputation. This was certainly a man you didn't mess with.

The four men all nodded again, their eyes low in fear and shame. Then without another word, they turned and stomped off with their tails tucked between their legs. Unable to help myself, I gave a small smile of satisfaction to my help.

"Thank you, Sergeant Fenix," I said, nodding my head once at him.

He snorted. "I didn't say _you_ had to call me that." Then his eyes started scanning my face in an odd, calculating way. Like he had questions, or was trying to remember something. I stood still, watching and waiting as he examined me. What the heck was he thinking about? I could almost _feel_ his gaze on my face.

"What's your name, rook?" He asked, still observing.

"Santiago," I told him, that tiny bit of pride creeping into my voice. "Melanie Santiago." Something in Marcus's mind must have clicked, because his eyes suddenly froze. It was eerie, the way he was staring at me. I shifted my weight from foot to foot, feeling uncomfortable.

"Um…" My eyes shifted to the ground nervously. "I don't mean any disrespect, but…what?"

Marcus continued staring at me for a long moment before speaking. "What are your parent's names?" he asked in a serious tone.

That one struck a soft spot, but I did my best to hide it. "I don't know my father's name," I began, to Marcus's disappointment. "But…I do know that my mother's name was Maria."

I could have slapped him and gotten the same reaction he had now. "Hooooly shit." He said, an undertone of panic in his voice. "Holy shit, holy shit, holy _shit_."

I gave him a crazed look. "What?" I demanded again, much louder this time. "What the hell are you getting at?" I took a step away from him, trying to judge his behavior or suddenly develop mind-reading powers. Then I asked the first thing that popped into my mind. "Did you know my mother or something?"

Marcus put his hands on his hips and let out a low whistle. He looked at me, the ground, me, then the ground again.

"I knew your mother," he told me, and then it was my turned to flip shit. But before I could get my first question out of my mouth, he held up a hand to stop me. Then he paused, and said "I _know_ your father."

Wait…he knew my mother…and _knows_ my father?

…my father was alive?

I straightened up and looked him dead in the eye, making sure he was telling the truth. Marcus stood perfectly still with his hands at his sides, and his eyes cool and calm. He wasn't lying. There was no way. Would there even be a purpose for him to lie? Could he gain something from it? Maybe I was just in major denial and making up shit with my mind.

After staring him down for a good thirty seconds, I decided that by the looks of it…he was telling the truth.

I took a long, deep breath.

Initiate mental melt down in three…two…one…

"_WHAT?_"

"But how is this possible? We've been living in the same city for what? Three years now? _And_ we're both with the COG? How have we not crossed paths or heard of each other yet?"

Marcus and I were walking down the street at a quick, steady pace. Almost jogging, actually. But Marcus had informed me that not only did he know my father (who was alive, by the way), but he _lived_ with my father. He didn't even ask if I wanted to stop by, I just immediately followed.

"I don't know, kid," Marcus said, shrugging his shoulders. "You guys don't really have the best of luck."

"I've noticed…" I muttered, smirking. Then I shook my head, still in disbelief. "But wait, how can you be sure? How do know this isn't some sort of mix up?" I was suddenly worried, anxious that all of my sudden hope may turn out to be for nothing.

Marcus gave me a long look before answering. "You look a lot like the Maria I knew, kid. Not to mention you've got Dom's nose." He smirked, and light blush worked its way up the back of my neck.

"Dom?" I said, trying to hide my embarrassment.

Marcus nodded. "Dominic Santiago. That's your father's name."

Finally. I _finally_ had a name to add to the face in my mind. Just because I didn't know what he looked like doesn't mean that I haven't spent hours upon hours trying to picture him. And it wouldn't be long until I would see the face of my actual father. Until I'd actually _meet_ my father!

"Oh my God…" I whispered, suddenly feeling the impact of the situation. "Marcus Fenix is taking me to meet my actual father."

Marcus snorted and shook his head. "Yeah, I'm a bit shocked myself. But I've been through a lot of crazy shit, so I'm used to it."

I nodded, but really I was too caught up in my own thoughts to register what he said. "Oh my God, what if he doesn't like me? What if…what if he doesn't want to see me? That would explain why he hasn't been looking for me, wouldn't it?" The tone in my voice was reaching hysteria.

"Whoa, kid, slow your roll." Marcus stuffed his hands in his pockets and slowed his walking pace. "Just trust me, okay? He wants to see you. Really. Now I can't tell you how he's gonna react, but then again you never know with situations like this." How the hell was he able to stay so calm? I envied him.

Taking a couple deep breaths, I did my best to just let everything in. Maybe today wouldn't be so bad after all.

Marcus stopped walking, and so did I. For a moment, he just stood there with his hands in his pockets, looking at me, waiting. "What?" I asked, and he shifted his eyes from me, to a set of apartment stairs, then to me again.

I felt my eyes grow huge. "Is this it?" Marcus nodded slowly, smirking at my reaction. I gave the building a quick glance up and down, and then turned my eyes to the sidewalk. "Um…okay. Okay. So we, uh…which floor is it?"

"Fifth." He stated simply.

I narrowed my eyes at him suspiciously. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Yep, just a little."

"Alrighty then!" I said, letting out a huge breath. "Sergeant Fenix, could you please show me the way?"

The walk up those five flights of stairs was the longest walk of my life. The higher we got, the quicker my breaths came. And it most certainly wasn't because I was out of shape.

"Oh my God," I kept saying, over and over. "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God."

We reached the door to their apartment, and my heart threatened to leap through my throat. Marcus gripped the door handle and gave me a final glance. "Ready kid?" he asked. I nodded, feeling numb. Then, Marcus opened the door and stepped inside.

The living room was small and cozy. There was a make-shift coffee table made with an old, wooden door and four stacks of cement blocks. Somewhere way in the back of my crazy, deluded mind, I thought it was kind of cute. Next to the table was an old, beige colored couch, and sprawled out on it was another huge guy, easily more than six feet tall. He was dressed pretty similar to Marcus, but his hair was blond under a set of high-tech looking goggles. The guy was bigger than the couch itself, his arms and legs hanging over its edges.

His head lifted up slightly when we walked through the door. He didn't react to Marcus, but when he saw me he furrowed his eyebrows.

"Hey Fenix, did you know there's a chick following you around?" Something about the tone in his voice and Marcus's reaction made me think that he was _always_ that sarcastic.

Marcus gave an annoyed huff and closed the door behind us. "I see you've had a productive day," he said, walking over to the couch. "Where the hell's Dom?"

The guy snorted and went back to his nap that we'd obviously interrupted. "Weird, I always thought you had a thing for blonds."

Marcus growled in warning, clearly not in the mood. "Baird…"

"'Cause, you know, Anya's got that blond thing goin-"

"BAIRD!"

"Alright, geez!" The blond put his hands up in surrender. "Dom's in the kitchen making Cole clean. Why, you need him?"

Marcus scowled down at the man, looking like he may punch him. But I don't think there was a real threat because Baird, the man on the couch, didn't look nervous at all.

Just then, there was a call from the kitchen. "Marcus, that you? Imma kill these guys, I hope you know that!" I heard boots stomping around, and then a man emerged from the kitchen. He was tall and built like the others, maybe even a little bigger, and black.

"Man, Santiago's killin' me Marcus! You see him trying to make me do dishes?" He shook his head and walked over to Baird, slapping him on the leg. "Move over, The Cole Train needs a break!" Grumbling, Baird sat up and moved to one side of the couch.

Before he sat down though, Cole's eyes settled on me. "Oh wait, hold on now baby!" He walked around the couch and over to Marcus and I, towering above me by more than a foot. "Now who is this fine, young lady?" He asked, gesturing towards me. "Don't tell me you've forgotten your manners, Fenix!"

Marcus narrowed his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose. "Dom!" He shouted, ignoring Cole's question. "Could you come here for second?" Cole dramatically feigned being offended, which would have made me laugh if I didn't feel like I was going to throw up on the carpet.

Another man came walking out of the kitchen, drying his hands with a dish towel. "Alright, alright," he said, tossing the towel at Cole's face. "What do you need?"

The room literally started spinning before my eyes. My stomach felt like it was floating. I may have had some sort of crazy, out of body experience.

It was him. Oh sweet lord, it was him.

Maybe it was just me, but I could have sworn something about the atmosphere in the room sort of snapped. Cole and Baird were exchanging a confused look, Baird's slightly more mischievous. Marcus was giving _Dom_ a look that seemed like he was waiting for him to pass out or say something, and Dom was giving _me_ a look. It was like the look that Marcus had given me on the street; his eyes were scanning each and every feature while he was thinking, judging, remembering.

I was starting to _really_ wonder just how much I looked like my mother.

And then the pain flashed in my father's eyes, making me regret ever coming here in the first place. If what Marcus had said about my looks was true, then who knew what memory my father was recalling now? Were my looks obvious enough to where he just _knew_, or did I need to go shake his damn hand and shout out my last name like at the academy?

Damn it Marcus, say something!

"Dom…" Finally. "This is Melanie Santiago. She's your daughter."

Oh God, I couldn't breathe. Everything was going dark. There was no way he'd want to see me. This was my last chance. I could just turn and run. I could leave, and I'd never have to see-

"What?" Dom took a couple slow steps across the room, towards me. I couldn't read his expression anymore because I was so worried about my own. "Are you serious?"

Marcus nodded, his lips pursed. "Look at her, Dom. You know it's true."

I don't have a damn clue why, but something about that line brought on the tears. I took a hesitant step forward, glancing at Marcus to make sure it was okay. My hands were shaking uncontrollably, and I was on my way to becoming an absolute mess. So I figured it was time to do something before the moment became too embarrassing for me. No turning back from here, right?

Before I even registered what my body was doing, I was across the room, up in the air and then landing into Dom Santiago's arms. He caught me with ease, like I knew he would. My arms wrapped around his neck probably a bit too tightly, and I hid my face in the crook of his neck. It took all of my strength to not sob like a four-year-old, but I managed. My feet were suspended in the air because he was so freaking tall.

And then I started to laugh. Uncontrollably. I'd never felt so freaking happy in my life.

His warmth, his scent, his breathing, everything that proved to me that he existed, that he was _alive_. I'd never be able to get enough of it. My father was here, in my arms, hugging me back. There could be a riot outside, the building could collapse, the Locust could _attack_, and I wouldn't care. I probably wouldn't even notice.

"Guess we've got some catching up to do," Dom murmured in my ear, tightening his hold on me.

I nodded and laughed, tickling my cheek on his facial hair. "Yep. I guess we do."


	2. Chapter 2

**WOW, thanks so much to those who reviewed and put this on their favorite's list! I couldn't wait until I got home to read them, so I started checking my email while I was in my English class the day after I posted this! I was way too excited haha. But anyways! I've decided to make this a series of one-shots! There was just no way I could NOT write more. This story is way too much fun :)**

**Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Two: We Should Talk<strong>

Unfortunately, after a few days spent with my father (a few wonderful, beautiful, magical days), I had to start acting like a grown-up again. Everyday I'd checked in with my sergeant, of course, and I'd reported to training and my patrol shift on time. But then after those ten hour shifts were over, I'd march straight over to the Delta Squad's residence and wait until I heard the loud stomps of four sets of boots coming up the stairs. I arrived only half an hour before them, but still it felt like forever. Not only because I wanted to see the face of Dom Santiago again (I may have still been in a tiny bit of denial), but because I was having a hard time "making myself at home" as Marcus had put it.

They'd given me their spare key to the front door, making me gleeful like a child. So all I had to do was walk up to apartment 509, jut the key into the handle and let myself in. The problem you ask? I just wasn't used to having people that _used_ the phrase "make yourself at home." The first time I walked into the cozy apartment by myself, I just sort of stood in the center of the living room, turning in small circles, wondering what to do. Did I sit on the couch and wait for them there? Or would that seem too imposing? I also thought about waiting in the kitchen at their small table (there was only one chair to sit in.) But then…what if they thought I was eating their food?

Geez, I was a mess.

Then I'd hear their voices reverberating up the hallway, and my worries would be gone. My father would make things easy and simple for me because it was in his nature to do so. He'd walk through that door, call out my name or some Spanish term like "Mija!", and then everything would be better.

But I was an adult!...for the most part. Or at least I had to _act _like one before I found out about my father. So just because he was now in my life didn't mean that my "grown-up" problems would simply go away (no matter how much I wanted them to.) I had to admit that throwing away the last ten years of my life-only to adapt the childhood I never had-sounded pretty damn tempting.

What's this? I'm _complaining _and feeling _sorry_ for myself? How many people had absolutely no family at all? I'm lucky as hell! So it was time for me to suck. It. Up.

And no matter how much I laughed at the thought of doing it, I couldn't latch onto daddy's leg and let him take full responsibility for myself. After my patrol shift, I needed to go home. _My _home. My cute little ten-by-ten barrack located in the heart of the COG base. I'd never be able to maintain a job with my training and all that, so when I enlisted with the COG, I signed up for a barrack, and was lucky enough to get one. It wasn't free though, hence my many, many hours of patrol duty. I worked for them, and in return they gave me a bed and access to the COG's wonderful cafeteria.

Blegh.

I'd give Delta's land phone a call, which was another number I'd get to add to my oh-so-small list of contacts. After letting someone there know I wasn't lying in a ditch somewhere, I'd take care of a few things that needed to be done.

But first, the patrol shift.

Only six minutes left.

I had gate-duty this time. So I stood at the twelve foot high, chain link fence, monitoring soldiers, Stranded and vehicles that would pass through the two huge, metal doors that would slide open only with to specific request or needs. My armor was on, my long hair tied up, and a fully loaded Lancer was always in my hands, safety off, ready for action.

If there ever _was_ any action. But honestly, I think we were only in full uniform to scare off those contemplating whether to stir up trouble or not. Nothing ever happened this close to the base. It's scary how many times the thought "Wish someone would attack" runs through your mind while you're patrolling. Boredom struck often, and it struck hard.

That's why it's always good to have a buddy. Luckily, my friend Justin had gate duty with me, and we were always trying to have fun when our sergeant's back was turned.

Justin was cool, the closest thing I had to family until my _real _family came along. We had met about three years before, both young, naïve, and enlisting because there was nothing better to do. Our barracks were right next to each others, we had the same sergeant, and we trained together. So how could we not establish _some_ sort of acquaintance? Besides, good friends were hard to come by these days.

I glanced over at Justin who was to my right, on the other side of the metal double-door, about 40 yards away. He moved his head and eyes like he was watching, but I knew that he was actually spaced out. When I first met him, he had blond, shaggy hair. But to follow proper dress protocol, it wasn't long until it was shaved short and out of his eyes. He would need another hair cut soon considering the crazy spikes that made up his hair now.

Justin Miller was eighteen, the same age as me, and stood at about 5'8". He had green eyes, and a natural attitude that seemed to be unaffected by the world around him. I didn't get him sometimes. It was difficult to find someone who was able to keep all of the world's hardships at bay.

After doing another pointless scan of the ground in front of him, Justin looked over at me and grinned. Making sure he wasn't being watched, he shrugged his shoulders and tapped his wrist. _How much more time?_ I held up two fingers at him, then threw a thumbs-up. _We're almost done!_ Our sergeant was probably already on his way over with two more soldiers to relieve us of our duty.

I suddenly heard the quick double-tap of a car horn, and my eyes snapped forward, away from Justin. Rolling in fast was a large, black truck that had definitely seen its days. The sides were covered with dents, scratches and bullet holes. Plus, connected to its front was a guard rail probably placed specifically for ramming things.

Feeling anxious, I looked back over at Justin and nodded my head at him, telling him to come over. He was at my side in a second, questions in his eyes.

"Who the heck's that?" he asked, turning to watch the approaching truck.

I shrugged and squinted against the headlights. "Dunno, I've never seen this vehicle before." When the truck was already a bit close for comfort, it started to slow, its tires screeching across the asphalt. Justin's arm came out and swept me backwards as we both quickly moved out of the way.

As soon as it had come to a stop, the driver cut the lights and I ran up to the passenger side of the truck. I put on my "angry soldier" expression, and tightened my grip on my Lancer. I really hope this wasn't some crazy, rogue COG hater that wanted to shoot up the place. It had happened before. Taking a small breath, I made a motion with my hand that told the passenger to roll down their window.

The window inched down slowly, stopping to where I could only see the eyes of a dark man. He narrowed them at me suspiciously. "Password?" he asked in an unnaturally low voice.

I rolled my eyes and smirked. Dropping my Lancer to my side and relaxing, I shook my head and smacked the window with my palm. "Cole, roll the window down!"

He laughed at his own little joke, clearly proud of himself. The window rolled all the way down, revealing Cole in the passenger seat and Baird driving. "Hehe, sorry little Santiago," Cole joked. "I couldn't help it." Baird was giving Cole a look that said _"I can't go _anywhere_ with you."_

I turned to look over my shoulder at Justin, who was giving me a confused look that was almost comical. "We're good!" I called, waving him over. "It's Delta!"

Enthusiasm quickly replaced his befuddled expression as he ran to my side. "Delta, really?" he asked, peering into the truck like it was some sort of museum. "What are they doing here? They're normally assigned way out on the edge of town. It's the only place that gets any kind of action."

Then there was a rustling in the back seat and I craned my neck to try and look in the window. It was difficult considering the fact that the bottom of the window came to my nose.

"Hey, can you idiots quit talking to her and just get the damn gate open?" Marcus sounded pretty irritated, even for him. He struggled to force his wide shoulders into the front section of the cab so he could look down at me. "Tell Jefferson to open up, it's an emergency."

I nodded and quickly ran from the truck to the gate. Looking straight up, I started waving an arm to signal Mark, the man in the guard tower. "Yo, Mark!" I shouted into my hand-held radio. "Open up the gate!"

There was a bit of static, and then a low grumble. _"I can't just open it, Mel. Is that even a registered COG vehicle?"_

I scowled and rolled my eyes. Typical Mark. "Never mind, just open it! They said it's an emergency!"

"_Who's they? Don't you know protocol, Santiago?"_

"Come on Mark, are you serious? Quite being a pansy!" I heard a door slam, and I glanced over my shoulder. Marcus was suddenly out of the truck and marching towards me in a terrifying way, waves of fury rolling off his hunched shoulders. He held out a hand, and before he even asked for it, I tossed the radio to him.

Marcus held the radio up to his lips. "OPEN THE FUCKING GATE, JEFFERSON!" His rage made me flinch, and I caught the radio when he tossed it back with trembling hands. Then I turned around and sent a dirty look at the guard tower.

"_Y-yes sir!"_ Mark's voice stuttered out of the radio. _"Opening now, Sergeant Fenix!"_ The metal of the gate groaned, and it slowly started to open.

I jogged to catch up with Marcus, stopping him just as he was climbing back into the truck. "Wait!" I shouted, making his grip on the door handle freeze. "Where's my dad?" The new phrase still felt strange and awkward coming off of my tongue. "And what's the emergency?"

Marcus yanked one of the back doors of the truck open and stepped to the side. Lying there on the cloth seat, unconscious with blood dripping from a gash on his forehead, was my father.

"Your dad _is_ the emergency. We're taking him to the ER. I'll explain later." Without another word, Marcus hopped up into the truck, slammed the door, and Baird stomped on the gas. They peeled off into the base, leaving behind a cloud of dust, and leaving _me_ with a million questions.

As I stared after them in shock, I felt Justin come to my side and shake my shoulder. "Hey, you okay?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowing with concern. "What were they talking about? Did he say your _dad_?" It took me a moment to answer him. I was still picturing the way my father had looked.

"Shit," I muttered, bringing my hands face. "There's a lot I haven't told you."

"Obviously." Justin shook his head and smirked. Then he grabbed my elbow and tugged. "Come on, let's go. We'll talk eventually." I nodded, unable to show much emotion. My heart was racing at an unbelievable speed. As the front gate started slipping close, Justin and I ran inside, heading straight for the medical building as fast as we could. I just hoped our sergeant was on his way to the gate with two other soldiers.

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><p>My father's tiny section of the COG's hospital was crammed with as many people as we could fit in there. It was Marcus, Cole, Baird and me crowded around the flimsy cot that wasn't even big enough to hold my dad's body. They just didn't make furniture built for the size of a COG soldier, did they?<p>

Justin stood behind us all at the entrance of our curtained-off section, his arms crossed, doing his best to not seem intrusive. He obviously felt out of place. I assured him it was okay for him to be there, but I could tell he wasn't comfortable. He stayed though, reluctantly, for moral support.

An aggressive nurse had been angry with Marcus for bringing so many people into my father's room. But there was no stronger aggression than that of Sergeant Fenix, and so we were all allowed to stay despite the immensely cramped space.

Well…it wasn't a room so much as it was a box created by hanging white sheets.

Delta held random, sarcastic small talk like always. But I couldn't make myself contribute. What was it with these soldiers that kept them so calm and cool _all the time_? Dom Santiago was passed out in a hospital cot, a massive lump on his head and an IV in his arm! Marcus was noticeably more tense than the others, but nothing compared to me. I was gnawing on my fingernails like an animal, sitting down, standing up, pacing, and probably being just damn annoying. It wasn't long until I couldn't stand to be in the tiny room for another _second_.

"I need some air," I announced abruptly, startling myself and making the others jump. "Anyone need anything?"

Cole and Baird gave each other a cautious look and then shook their heads after a moment "Nah, we good little Santiago," Cole told me, glancing at the others. Baird went back to toying with his goggles he normally wore, and Cole just plopped himself down in the only available chair, stretching his legs out and putting his hands behind his head.

Marcus's cool eyes were locked on me, his intense stare trying to pull me apart like I was some sort of puzzle. There was _something_ about those damn eyes of his!

"We're good, kid. Don't be too long." He released me from his gaze, turning to look down at the floor. I felt myself let out the breath I'd been holding. Then his eyes lifted up again for a moment. "Justin," he ordered, startling him and making him straighten up from his stiff position in the corner. "Go with her."

Justin nodded instantly, probably relieved that he didn't have to stay in the room without me. "Yes sir, Sergeant Fenix." He followed close behind as I rushed away.

Most of my anxiety evaporated as soon as the cool, night air touched my face. I took a long, deep breath as I simultaneously shoved open the double-door entrance of the medical building, walking no further than the concrete steps leading up to it. I started removing my suffocating armor immediately, grabbing, unbuckling and tugging at it until all of the metal was removed, and placed in a pile off to the left of me. The heavy cargo pants had to stay, but I still felt a million times lighter. My right hand shot up to the band holding my hair back and ripped it away, letting it all cascade over my shoulders and into my eyes.

I took another deep breath. Aaah, much better.

Justin walked to my side with his hands in his pockets, a vision of ease I wish I could accomplish. "You okay?" he asked, raising and eyebrow at me.

I nodded and sat down on the steps. "Yep. Just needed a minute." He sat down next to me and I gave him an apologetic look. "Sorry you got dragged into this."

He shrugged his shoulders. "It's cool. Not like I had anything to do tonight anyway. I was actually planning on asking if you wanted to hang out after our shift, so it all worked out."

I snorted. "I'm sure this isn't what you had in mind."

"Well yeah, the whole thing with your dad was unexpected…in more ways than one." He gave me an accusing, sideways glance, making me laugh.

"Okay, so I forgot to tell you about him. But I haven't had a chance to really talk to you in the past couple days. What was I supposed to say? 'Have a good shift, and oh by the way, turns out my dad's alive'?" I shook my head and rested my chin on my hands.

Justin grinned and leaned back on his elbows. "Alright, I get it. It's just kind of a shocker."

"Hah! You think?" I shook my head and glanced over at my pile of armor. "Guess I should head back in. I really wanna make sure I'm there when my dad wakes up. What the hell am I gonna do with all that?"

Justin stood and offered me a hand. I grabbed it, letting him pull me to my feet. "I can take it if you want. I think it's about time I head back to the barracks." It _was_. Now that I was really getting a good look at him, I could notice the dark circles under his eyes. There was a hint of weariness to his expression, and his shoulders hunched more than usual. I mentally scolded myself for being selfish and not telling him to go get some sleep.

Like my hand had a mind of its own, I reached up and lightly brushed a spot under his left eye with my thumb. "Trouble sleeping, huh?"

He sighed, closing his eyes and nodding. "I guess you could say that."

I dropped my hand, suddenly feeling as tired as he looked. The day was finally catching up. "You don't have to take my stuff. I can just put it in the back of Delta's truck. Chances are I'm heading back to their place anyway."

Justin started chuckling, shaking his head incredulously. "Melanie Santiago, an eighteen year old rook, hanging out with Delta Squad. I hope you can keep yourself out of trouble."

"Trust me. When I'm with them, the last thing you need to worry about is my safety." I smiled at the thought of the men who were chasing me a few days ago, and I pictured their faces when they first heard Marcus's name.

"Alright…" Justin yawned and did his best to cover it up with his hand. "That's good to know." He reached out and lightly patted me on my shoulder. "Well, I'm gonna hit the showers. I'll see you tomorrow?" I simply nodded at him, out of things to say. He gave me a smile and a wave, then turned and started making his way towards the barracks with his hands in his pockets. I watched him for a minute as he left, getting further and further away. I felt like I should have thanked him for staying, but there was always tomorrow. Sighing, I walked back up the steps and into the medical building.

Inside, the bottom floor was busy as hell. All kinds of people whizzed in and out of the different curtained areas. Most were bustling nurses dressed in white, some looking clean, and others…not so much. I brushed past one frantic nurse with gloved hands in the air, calling out orders, and covered in blood that didn't belong to her. The strange thing was that it didn't even faze me.

I did my best to ignore the chaos, only focusing on my father's little section in all of the craziness. I grabbed a handful of the curtain entrance to his room and quickly pushed it to the side. Marcus, Cole and Baird were all on their feet around the cot, their backs to me, talking and joking with each other. Marcus heard me walk in and he quickly turned around.

"Finally," he grumbled. Marcus reached out and grabbed my shoulder roughly. "Get over here, rooky. Took you long enough."

He yanked me forward, making me yelp and stumble. I almost fell flat on my face. Marcus then positioned me in front of him to where I could get a good view of the cot, and gave me another little push towards it. "Found her," Marcus declared sarcastically.

My dad's head shot up from his pillow and his eyes snapped open, making me jump like he was a rising zombie or something like that. "Ah, there she is!" He shouted, sounding a bit off and sort of loopy. "Damn I've been waiting long enough. Where were you, Mija?"

An unbeatable smile spread across my face and I started giggling like I was five. Who knew I still had the energy to crack a grin? I'd never be able to keep up any sort of "tough girl" façade when he was around. Ever. "Sorry, I stepped out for a sec. Didn't know you were planning on picking _then_ to wake up. What the hell happened?" I was happy, scared and worried all at once as I kneeled down on the floor next to his head, observing the bump positioned above his right eye. It looked awful, but I still kept a smile on my lips.

My dad simply pointed an accusing finger at Marcus, who scowled. "Oh don't be a pussy," Marcus said. Then he looked at me and started his explanation. "We were dealing with a colony of Stranded who have been giving us shit for months. They're always causing everyone trouble because they don't wanna work for their damn money. They had a stash of weapons and explosives they were planning on using to hit the COG base, but obviously they didn't get that far. We pretty much had the fight won when one of the crazy bastards tossed a grenade at their own cargo truck. Guess he didn't want us taking it since he knew they weren't walking away with anything."

Dad huffed a sigh through is nose, clearly frustrated. I tried not to smirk at him. "The blast was pretty big," Marcus continued. "There were other explosives in the truck. Me and Dom were thrown backwards, and this _idiot_ cracked his head on a rock."

"We're gonna start calling him rooky, and _you_ Dom," Baird chipped in, grinning.

"Hey! It was _one_ thing, you idiots. Tell 'em, Melanie!" My dad had this pout face going like he was a child that hadn't gotten what he wanted.

"Uh, is he okay?" I asked, pointing down at him with a confused look. "He's acting…weird."

Marcus rolled his eyes. "He's fine. Just drugged to hell. They only have a few options for fixing this kind of injury here. They'll just keep watching him, make sure he doesn't show signs of a concussion, and keep him painless."

I nodded and looked back down at my dad. "Well then I guess this is a bad time to have that talk we've been putting off!" A frustrated scowl contorted my lips. I'd known him for almost a week now. In two hours, it _would_ be a week. When would we finally be able to sit down-no distractions, no patrol shifts, no emergencies-and just _talk_?

"Well, you could still chat, he just won't remember a damn thing!" Cole had been laughing this whole time, highly amused at the site of a drugged-up Dom Santiago. And I have to admit, it _was_ pretty funny.

I stood from my position on the floor and stretched, figuring the night was far from over. "So he's good?" I asked, giving a small thumbs up. "No underlying health problems or any of that crap?"

Marcus shook his head. "Nope. Now we just wait."

"Alrighty then!" I put my hands on my hips and turned to glare down at my father, who was answering back with a stupid, goofy grin. "Don't scare me like that, you idiot!" I shouted, pulling back my hand and giving him a good, hard smack on the leg. "You almost gave me a freaking heart attack!"

"Ow!" He whined, reaching down to rub the spot I'd slapped. "Geez! Why so much violence?"

"It's _your_ fault," I informed him, making a gesture towards myself like I was some sort of presentation. "You are my dad, after all."

A determined smirk turned up the corners of his lips. Then he pumped a fist in the air like an over-enthused thrashball player and shouted loud for all to hear. "You bet I am! Take _that_, destiny!"

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><p><strong>Awesome, chapter two complete! Sorry if it seemed a bit…I don't know, pointless. But it's mostly for showing the life Melanie has when Delta isn't around. Or at least, it was a small glimpse of it. Plus, it was sort of for setting things up now that I've decided to make this a story. But I promise next chapter will have a lot more "father-daughter" action! Because after <strong>_**this**_** chapter is where the fun really begins :D**

**Thanks so much for reading, and please, PLEASE review! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello, hello, hello my wonderful readers! You guys are pretty freaking amazing, especially those leaving reviews. I know a lot of people say that they like getting reviews on their stories, but you guys make my days. Like, literally MAKE them awesome. Seriously. Sorry my updates aren't really coming as fast as I originally planned. School is killing me…no, it ACTUALLY took me into a dark alley and tried to mug me. Plus, it's been a rough couple of weeks. *Tiny violin plays* **

**Hopefully this chapter satisfies everyone :) If you guys ever come up with any ideas or something you'd like to see happen (father/daughter moments and all that jazz) feel free to send them my way. I'd be happy to give them a shot, and then of course give credit to those who sent it in! Enjoy chapter three!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Three: Santiago Stories<strong>

Finally! A day to myself. No COG armor, no patrol shift, no screaming sergeant, and no crazy Stranded. What more could I ask for?

My hair was down, the sun was out, and I was on my leisurely stroll to Delta's apartment. Today would definitely be a good day. I even hummed a bit while I walked and smiled at things I normally didn't smile at.

My dad had a couple days off due to his head injury, and I'd finally gathered up enough courage to ask my sergeant if he would allow me a free weekend as well. Seeing as it was the first time I'd asked for away time EVER, he didn't seem to mind. Training was only during the week for most, and patrol shifts were slower than normal on Saturday and Sunday. I wouldn't miss a thing.

Plus, even if I did miss anything, it wouldn't matter much because the days I got off would be spent with my dad. Just me and him, hangin' out and having a good old time!

Okay, so there was no way it'd go that smoothly. We weren't exactly what you called a "picture-perfect" family. But we knew that, and we'd have no problem rolling over our troubles together. Besides, there wasn't a single damn _normal_ thing left on this planet, anyways.

Before I knew it, I was racing up the metal staircase to room 509, my keys jingling in my hand. I gripped the door handle, but it was already unlocked so I knocked shyly and walked inside.

"Hello?" I called out, cautiously glancing around the living room. It was very quiet in the apartment, which was odd. No footsteps, crashes or sarcastic remarks. I shut the door behind me and stuffed my keys in my pocket. Surely someone would be here soon?

I gave a look at the worn out couch in the middle of the room, suddenly wondering where my father was. Shouldn't he be right here, resting?

Doing my best to hold back the anxiousness building in my chest, I decided to have a look around the rooms. I had to tell myself it was for a good reason, and that I was in no way snooping around. Being nosy in an apartment that belonged to a bunch of Gears couldn't have been the best idea.

The living room and kitchen of the apartment were practically one room, only being divided by a short wall with a window bar. But all of the other rooms were hidden somewhere in the back hallway, to the left of you when you first walk in. A bit reluctantly, I tiptoed my way there, trying to touch nothing, being as quiet as possible.

The hallway was lined with four different doors, two to the left, one to the right, and then the last in front of me at the end. Not quite sure where to start, I simply grasped the knob to the first door on my left because it was closest.

"Anyone in here?" I whispered, only poking my head into the room a tiny bit. Though the room was empty, it obviously belonged to Cole. He had just a mattress with no frame placed in the far, right corner of the room. His sheets were wadded up, his dresser drawers opened up and spilling over, and there was an old, flat thrashball on the floor. The only thing missing was the rancid smell of a men's locker room, which to my delight, was undetectable.

Sighing, I stepped out of the room and went across the hall to the next one. But before I could open it, I heard a very light _clank_ sound of metal on metal, followed by low grumbling. Nervous, I tapped on the door with just my fingernail and slid it open.

_Definitely_ Baird's room. This room was a scrap man's dream. There were all sorts of tools, wires and parts sitting in organized piles across the floor. He simply had a mattress just like Cole, and an old dresser. But then in one corner of the room, Baird had a _huge_ metal-top desk that took up any extra space the room had to spare. The desktop had a light mounted on it, and it was coated in all sorts of little tools, screws and blue prints. Then to top it off, an old, wooden chair with wheels sat in front of the desk for Baird to sit in while he worked.

…which he was actually doing right then.

"Baird?" I opened the door all the way and stepped into his room. "You're here?"

He was hunched over his work desk, fiddling with some sort of motor-looking object in his hands. Considering the annoyed snort he let out, I assumed the object was giving him trouble.

"Well obviously," he grumbled, picking up a tiny screw driver with his right hand. "I'm sitting right here, aren't I?"

"Well yeah," I said, walking over to his desk to observe what he was doing. "But when I got here I called out and no one answered. I thought everyone was gone."

Baird sighed through his nose. "Nope. Me and Dom are here. Hey, hand me that wrench over there, would ya?" He pointed to the floor next to the desk.

I bent down to grab the wrench and then placed it in his waiting hand. "How come you didn't answer when I called? And where are the others? Wait, my dad's here?"

"Geez, kid. One question at a time." Baird gave me a sideways glance before pursing his lips and narrowing his eyes at the object in front of him, contemplating what to do to it next. "First, I didn't hear anything. You gotta learn to speak up, we all know your dad doesn't have a problem with that." He grasped the wrench and began dismantling the object. "Second, Cole and Fenix were called out for crowd patrol. The base got a shipment of supplies today, and you know how that goes."

I grimaced. Everyone _hated_ crowd control. It always meant crazy, starving, violent people trying anything they could to snatch at things they needed, even though they knew all of the supplies was going into the COG base, and never coming out. It was a sad thing to watch, but we had our duties. We weren't allowed to give them anything. You can imagine how fast these groups of people could turn into mobs.

"And third," Baird continued. "Your dad's passed out in his room. Those pain meds the hospital gave him are the real deal. He's gone for hours after he takes 'em, but they keep away the migraines so…" Baird had his I'm-going-to-figure-this-out-even-if-it-kills-me face going, his calculating eyes burning into the hunk of metal in front of him.

I let out a small laugh. "You're so fun to watch."

That broke his concentration for a tiny moment, and he shot me a glare. "Glad I amuse you."

"What is that, anyways?" I gestured towards the object in his raised, left hand.

Baird dropped the metal on his desk, heaving a heavy sigh and bringing his hands up to his face in defeat. "It's the old-ass motor to our fridge." He caught my bewildered expression. "Yeah, I know, this should be easy for good old Baird right?" He snorted and pushed his chair back from his desk. "Normally it would be, but it needs new parts. Parts that are hard as shit to find these days. I'm trying to figure out something to do _without_ the stupid parts, but so far, I'm drawing a blank."

I bit my lip for a moment, trying to think of something helpful to do or say. "Well I'm sure you'll figure it out. From what I hear, you always do." I smiled down at him encouragingly.

He rolled his eyes at me, impatient. Then he drolly shoved me away from him with a grunt and a smirk. "Yeah, yeah, I know I'm amazing. Now would you get outta here? Go wake your dad up. He's been a lazy ass all day."

I laughed and headed towards his bedroom door. "Hey, take it easy!" I said over my shoulder. "I was just trying to give you a little pep talk." I opened the door and stepped out into the hallway before remembering something. "Oh, Baird?" I asked, sticking my head back into his doorway.

"Yeah?"

"Which one's his room?"

"The one at the end of the hall. Give him a good smack for me when you wake him up, would ya?"

I snorted a laugh. "Sure, Baird. Whatever you say." Then I closed the door behind me and turned to walk over into my father's room.

I didn't even bother to knock on the door before I opened it up. Just as Baird said, my dad was completely spread out to the max across his big, spring mattress that actually came with a wooden frame. His forehead had a white gauze square taped to his injury, but I could still make out some bruising on the outer edges of it. He was lying on his stomach, hugging a pillow to his face with both of his arms. A smile turned up the corner of my lips as I silently made my way to his bedside.

My father's room was clean, which didn't surprise me. The others were always telling me about how he was the natural parent of the group, especially Cole and Baird. They hated having to clean up after themselves, but my _dad_ hated a dirty house.

Though my original plan was to wake him up, it didn't take long for me to realize that I couldn't. He looked way too peaceful for me to do anything but sit next to his bed and watch, as strange as that sounds. I simply walked over by the right side of his bed and slid to the floor with my back against the wall. I could hear my father's steady breathing, and I observed his face as his nose twitched, or his eyebrows occasionally furrowed.

How long would it take me to get used to this?

…how many times was I going to ask myself that question?

When he woke up, I'd finally be able to tell him everything. The big things, the small things. The good and the bad. Not just because he asked, but because I wanted him to know. We'd finally be able to have our talk, to "catch up", and the simple thought gave me a bubbly feeling of optimism. I couldn't remember ever having that feeling before.

I wondered what he would tell me. And I wondered if he'd mind if I asked him about his family…_our_ family.

Marcus informed me one day in a hushed voice that my parents had two other children, a boy and a girl named Benedicto and Sylvia. He also told me that they were killed during the war. Even though I never knew them, thinking about Ben and Sylvia was unbelievably heartbreaking.

"Maria…"

Yes, there was also my mother. I'd have to ask about her too. Marcus told me she disappeared after-

"Maria."

My head suddenly snapped up from resting against my knees. I hadn't even realized I'd let it drop in the first place. Then my eyes shot over to my father, who was still asleep, but his grip on his pillow tightened as his stiffened and twisted. He had been the one to murmur my mother's name.

"Dad?" I whispered, even though I knew he wouldn't answer.

My father stirred and let out a moan. "Maria," he said again, loud enough now to be mistaken for normal speaking. I sat up from the wall and shifted to my knees, resting my arms against my father's bed as I continued to watch him and listen.

He moved again, this time sighing and rolling to his back. Then he scrunched his eyebrows and let out a low, throaty groan. I thought about trying to wake him for a moment, but hesitated. If he dreamt of his lost wife, then who said he really _wanted_ to be woken up? I slowly stood from my knees, using the bed to hoist myself up. Maybe I would just wait for him in the living room. For some odd reason, I suddenly felt like I was being intrusive or nosy. Biting my lip, I took a small step away from my father's bed and turned to leave.

"Why…" he muttered, and for one crazed second I thought he was speaking to me. Gripped by curiosity, I turned back around to glance at him, not able to walk out of the room just yet.

Then my father's hands clenched into fist as he grasped at his sheets. He let out a sound of frustration, and began to occasionally twist and turn. Did these dreams happen all the time? How long should I let it go on before I finally shook him awake?

My father rolled over and sobbed once into his pillow, a rough, strangled sound that yanked me forward, back to the side of his bed.

"Dad," I said firmly, leaning forward and placing my hands on his back. "Dad, wake up." I tried shaking him lightly, but he was so freaking _big_ I could hardly get him to budge. I kneeled on the bed and tried putting my weight into it. "Dad! Hey, wake up. Dad, it's just a dream." Using great force, I gave him another heave.

His head suddenly snapped up from his pillow, and his gaze darted from left to right. "Ah, ah! What?" His eyes landed on me and then he widened them, squinted them, then widened them again. "Oh. Hey, hon. When did you get here?" His voice was coated with bewilderment and sleep. I could have laughed at how childish he looked, like he'd sprung up from bed because he was late to school. But I could only stare at him for a moment, shock still making my heart thrum in my ears.

"A few minutes ago," I told him, slipping my hands from their spot on his back. "I'm sorry. Baird told me you were asleep, but…"

He shook his head at me. "No, no, you're fine. I needed to get up anyways. I'd regret it if I slept our day away."

The way he said _our day_ made the corner of my lips turn up, but only just. My dad sat up in bed and began rubbing his eyes with the heels up his hands. I stood there awkwardly with my arms at my sides, weight equally distributed on each foot.

"How's your head?" I asked, resisting the urge to reach out and fix the gauze square that was now barely hanging on to his skin. His right hand went up to his forehead and brushed against the bump there, sliding the gauze out of the way. In the center of the wound was an awful gash I had yet to see, jagged and irregular, about two inches long. Unable to stop myself, I let in a sharp intake of breath and covered my mouth. "Dad…" I murmured anxiously, leaning forward to get a better look. "Geez, no wonder they gave you medication. I'm so sorry I woke you."

He started waving his left hand at me before I had finished. "Don't worry about it, Mel. Trust me, I've had worse. It's actually starting to get better."

"Well can I at least bandage it again?"

He snorted a laugh and rolled his eyes. "Fine. Let's go to the living room before I fall back asleep." He pushed himself up from his bed, making the mattress springs creek under his weight. We walked out into the hallway, he gave Baird's door a good smack, and then we made our way to the living room.

My dad immediately plopped down on the couch, taking up more than half the space and letting his head fall back. He was obviously still having a hard time staying awake. I smirked and went to stand behind him and the couch. "Hey. No more sleeping. Where's the first aid?" I poked him in the forehead a couple times.

He groaned and pointed a finger towards the kitchen. "Under the sink, I think. There should be box or something with materials in it."

I nodded and turned to hunt down the medical supplies, heading straight for the cabinet he told me about. Kneeling down, I grabbed the tiny knob and pulled it open. Then, I let out a loud, dramatic gasp.

"Oh _wow_," I breathed, reaching in to grab the cylinder shaped treasure that I had found. "You guys have coffee?" I cracked it open and took a huge whiff, rolling my eyes into the back of my head as I lost myself in its glory.

I heard my dad chuckling from the couch. "Yep. It's not the easiest thing to get your hands on, but you'd be surprised at what Marcus does for the stuff."

"Really?" I asked, smiling as I pictured Marcus barreling through a horde of Locust with a can of coffee tucked under his arm. "I never saw him as a man who fought for…_materialistic_ things." I put the lid back onto the container and placed it under the sink. Then I leaned in and glanced to the right, finding a black, metal box with a handle. "Aha!" I grabbed the first aid box, stood up and walked back into the living room.

"Alright, let's see what the infamous Delta Squad has to offer up as medical supplies." I placed the box on their "coffee table" and opened it up. Its contents were…basic. Band-aids of all sizes, antibacterial cream, tweezers, medical tape and gauze squares. I grabbed what I needed and walked around the couch to stand over my dad.

"So," he began, sighing and sitting up straight. "How old were you when you joined the COG?"

I ripped open a gauze square and put a dab of antibacterial cream on it. "Fifteen," I said absentmindedly. "Everyone was doing it. If you're not useful, you're dead, right?"

He made a sound of disapproval. "Maybe a few years ago, but still. Fifteen? I thought you had to be at least sixteen to enlist."

"Me too." I leaned over him and gently smoothed the gauze over his forehead wound, making him wince a tiny bit. "That's why I lied. I told them I was sixteen when I asked to join. There was a war going on, half the population didn't even have a home, so it wasn't hard to convince them that I had no kind of identification or proof. Not like they really cared, anyways."

"So young," he muttered, clearly unhappy about the fact.

I picked up the medical tape and ripped a couple of pieces off. "It wasn't all that bad. I _wanted _to join. Besides, that's when I met my buddy Justin." I smiled at the thought. "Okay, you're all patched up." I shut the first aid box and then squeezed in on the couch.

My dad turned and gave me an accusing look. "So this Justin kid…what's his last name?"

"Miller," I told him, shifting nervously under his gaze.

"And his middle name?"

"Seth."

"And his eye color?"

"Green-"

"Ah HAH!" He suddenly pointed a finger at me, making me jump. "There it is!"

I gave him a look like he was insane. "_What_? What the heck are you talking about?"

He gave me a narrow, know-it-all stare. "You're totally in love with this guy."

"_WHAT_?" I screeched, blood instantly rushing to my face and my ears. "What are you _talking_ about?"

He crossed his arms and shook his head. "It's the little details that count, mija, and you are _definitely _into this guy."

I stood from the couch abruptly, my face burning and my hands on my hips. "No. Nuh uh. Don't do this to me. I'm not _in love with him_, geez! He's just a friend! You don't even know him! You've never even _met_ him."

He grinned, having the time of his life. "Don't need to meet him. Besides, I'm not talking about him. I'm talking about _you_. How long, Mel?"

"How long since _what_?"

"How long since you've loved him!" He smiled hugely, and threw his head back in laughter.

I covered my face with my hands and screamed in exasperation. "No. I'm not talking to you about this. There's not even anything _to_ talk about. Justin and I are friends. That's how it's always been, that's how it always _will_ be, and none of your crazy predictions are going to change that."

He was going all out now, clutching his sides with his eyes squeezed shut. Why was he given an off day again? He seemed just _fine _to me. "Oh come on, Melanie," he still shook as he chuckled. "You're taking this too seriously. There's nothing wrong with being in _love_-"

"That's _it_!" I shouted, halting him with my right hand. "No more about me and Justin. My turn's over. What about you, huh? How old were you when you enlisted?"

He kept a smile on his face, but his eyes immediately sobered. "I was married, had one kid, had _another_ kid on the way, _and_ I'd reached Commando all before I hit eighteen."

My jaw dropped, and my arms went limp at my sides. Holy _crap_. It took me a moment to find my voice as I tried to picture it: my father, young and naïve with a baby in one hand, and a commando knife in the other. Just the thought of it seemed overwhelming. "And you were worried about _me_ starting young…" I murmured, going to sit back down next to him on the couch.

I felt him give a heavy sigh. "Yeah, a lot of people called me crazy, but I loved it. Good friends. Great family. Nice job. I had it all…" His eyes fell to the ground and his smile turned sad. "For a while, anyways."

I knew where the conversation would go now. The look on his face gave it all away. I looked down at my lap and started playing with my fingers, my mind wondering to what had happened earlier. "When I first woke you up…were you dreaming about her? About mom, I mean." My voice dropped lower than a whisper.

My dad closed his eyes for a moment and let his head droop forward. I was immediately guilty for asking. "You don't have to-"

"No, no, it's okay." He braced his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together. "You caught me. I get these dreams a lot, sometimes good, sometimes bad." He shrugged his shoulders. "There's not much I can do about them, so I just kind of deal. That's what everyone does these days, right?" It wasn't a surprise that he didn't talk about family very often. He looked more depressed than ever.

Determined to brighten his mood, but still curious, I switched tactics. "Tell me about my brother and sister," I said to him, feeling a small tug at my chest. "What were they like?"

A small grin spread across his face and he laughed once. "Bennie was a crazy little guy. You know I caught him climbing up on our counters once. I almost had a heart attack because I thought he was gonna fall. But he just laughed and laughed." His eyes brightened a tad as he relived the memory.

"Now Sylvie," he continued. "Believe it or not, she loved the heck out of Marcus." I covered my mouth to conceal the sudden laughter bubbling at my lips.

"Seriously?"

My dad nodded, smirking. "Yep. Anytime he came over she'd try to scare him or sit in his lap. He never played along very often, but I think that's why she liked it so much. Guess he was just a challenge for her to beat."

He went on and on, telling me any story he could think of about my lost siblings. His eyes would always brighten when he got to the good parts, and he'd draw the memories in the air with his hands. Benedicto _was_ crazy, just like my dad said. He always ended up being the majority of my parents' worries. Bennie was just too adventurous for his own good.

Stories of Sylvia made me laugh the most, especially the ones that included Marcus. Once Marcus had fallen asleep on the couch at my dad's apartment, and Sylvie drew all over his face with a pink marker. Just imagining his reaction when he woke up was enough to make me laugh until my sides hurt.

We spent more than an hour talking about family alone, me asking questions, and my dad answering them with a crazy, Santiago story.

My dad launched into another story about Benedicto when he had just turned one, and they were having a small get-together at my grandparent's house.

"Mom was in the kitchen with Maria," he started, leaning forward in excitement. "They were working on this great stew that was only for special occasions." He stopped and sighed. "Ah, I can still remember how it tasted. Well me and Marcus were sitting in the living room, and Bennie was in my lap. And you know that one thing babies do besides sleep and eat? Yeah, turns out Bennie had to _go_. So when he did, I thought it'd be funny to hand him over to Marcus and make _him_ change a diaper for once. But Marcus _freaked_ out and started calling for Carlos. So Carlos comes running into the room-"

"Wait," I interrupted him, slightly confused. "Who's Carlos?" He hadn't mentioned him in any other stories yet.

My dad's face instantly fell, like he'd been slapped or woken up from a perfect dream. The change was sudden, it left me a mile behind, wondering what I'd said wrong. I scolded myself, hating how I didn't quite know the right questions to ask yet, and anytime I asked a wrong one, he ended up hurting.

He stopped talking for a very long moment, his chin resting on his hand, his eyes cast downward at the carpet. After a minute passed, and then a few, I slide as close as to him as I could and rested my cheek on his right shoulder.

"Dad?" I whispered, looking up at his face.

He exhaled a long breath and finally spoke. "Carlos was my older brother," he told me, his voice sounding thick. "He died in battle a couple days after Sylvia was born." His lips twisted into a grimace. "That's, ah, a story that'll have to wait for another time."

Another shock, sharp and painful pierced through my heart. Just one more Santiago, lost in war. Was the word "death" officially associated with our family name?

I turned to where my forehead pressed against shoulder, and closed my eyes. "Damn, dad," I murmured, tears threatening to fall. "Is there anyone _left_?"

He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. Then he used his other hand to lift my chin, forcing me to look at him. "Us," he said, staring me straight in the eye. "Just us."

He released my chin so I could rest my head against his shoulder again. We simply sat there in silence for a while, having a moment to remember our deceased family, or in my case, think about them. To put it simply, the whole situation sucked. It _sucked_. But through all the thick and the thin, the fights and the battles, and the good and the bad, Dominic and Melanie Santiago were still alive. We were not only alive, but _together_. And even though it seemed like there was a curse on the Santiago name, our togetherness would be one thing we had that millions of others never would.

"Melanie?" my dad said quietly, the first to break our silence.

"Hmm?"

"Could you promise me one thing?" he asked, his voice serious and quiet.

"Of course," I told him, pulling away to look at him.

He furrowed his eyebrows for a moment nervously. "Could you…" he hesitated. "Could you promise me that…when you marry Justin, you'll keep the Santiago name?" He quirked a single brow at me, meaning every word.

My reaction was sudden and violent.

"_DAD!_" I jumped up from the couch, flailing my arms in the air. "WHAT did I say? _What did I say_?" He just laughed his big ass off, his howling voice bounding off the apartment walls. Why did he think he was so funny? What was his _deal_?

I thought about shouting at him. I thought about _hitting_ him. But in my angry, fuming moment as I stood in front of him with my arms crossed over my chest and a reprimanding glare…I somehow started laughing too.

"I _hate_ you!" I forced out in between my fits of hilarity. My arms wrapped around my stomach because of a cramp.

My dad collapsed against the back of the couch, weak from laughing and wiping a tear from his eye. "Love you, too, Mel! Love you, too."

* * *

><p><strong>Whew! That was a long one. Hope the emotional parts went okay, I always get kind of self conscious while writing them. Oh, and I will certainly try to get the next chapter out a bit faster :) Thanksgiving break is coming up, which means FREE TIME! :D <strong>

**Thoughts? Suggestions? Anything? Please leave me a review! They keep me going like a hug from a family member :D **


	4. Chapter 4

**UGH. TWELVE ENGLISH PAPERS LATER! Geez, dual-credit English IV was a bad idea. What was I thinking? I mean, it's supposed to help me out with college, but ugh! So time consuming and insane... Anyways. Here is the next chapter! Again, sorry I didn't get it out as quick as I originally planned. But I guess that's more of a dream than anything else, especially with ENGLISH PAPERS ATTACKING ME. I need sleep, man. The walls are closing in.**

…**alright, you can read now. Oh! And to all of the lovely people reviewing and adding this to their favorites: I love you. Dearly. And I don't care how odd that may seem.**

**P.S. Just a tiny warning, the language gets a little more intense in this chapter than it's been so far. Considering this is a **_**Gears of War**_** fic, this warning may seem a bit…stupid. But I figured I let you know :)**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four: Feral <strong>

My arms ached from lifting box after box after _freaking_ box all day. Even though I didn't get much action working so close to the base all the time, I still managed to stay in shape. We all did.

But _damn_ my arms hurt.

"You're dragging behind," Marcus said bluntly, appearing behind me with another large, wooden box. He held it out towards me with no effort at all. Resisting the urge to grumble, I took the crate from his hands and hauled it over to the loading truck. The vehicle was nearly filled with hundreds of other crates, stacked and ready to be shipped away. Who knew what all these boxes contained? All _I _knew was that they were heavy.

Baird and Cole both stood in the back of the truck, grabbing the crates from my dad and me as we passed them up. "You're good, Mel. Don't let the man get you down." I smiled at Cole's effort to cheer me up as I handed him another box.

"It's all good, Cole. Just starting to feel it in my arms. This is the last load, right?" I threw a look over my shoulder at the stack of crates that refused to grow smaller, doing my best to keep a whining tone out of my voice.

"Yep, don't worry babe. We'll be done before you know it." My dad walked passed me with two crates in his arms and sat them on the edge of the truck. Show off.

Somehow, Delta had convinced me to "leave that boring-ass base and come do something that matters." At first I'd thought there'd be shooting, fighting, maybe a couple of explosions...

Now I was convinced that these guys just wanted help with loading this damn truck.

The only thing even remotely dangerous about our situation was the location. Ravens touched down in the outer provinces of the city, dropped off loads of supplies, and then COG soldiers were sent out (with a moving truck) to retrieve the goods. At first, I thought it was a terrible waste of resources when _Delta Squad _told me they'd be moving supplies, but apparently the location was a hot-spot for Locust interaction. So, ready to feed my unhealthy desire to shoot something, I immediately nodded my head when my dad asked me to tag along. They told my sergeant that it would be a _great_ opportunity for experience.

Lying bastards. Plus, I hated the idea of being passed around like a child. _Oh hey, Sergeant Decarlo. Can we barrow Melanie Santiago for the day? We promise she'll be home before curfew._ The only _real_ reason I agreed to tag along was so I could spend a little time away from that monotonous base.

We finished up about a half-hour later, me being the one to heave the last box of _stuff_ into the truck. Cole and Baird hopped down off the edge, sliding the door down with them.

"Whew!" Cole walked over and clapped me on the back in between my shoulder blades, making me stumble forward. "Good job today, lil Santiago! Too bad we didn't get any activity. I was actually kinda looking forward to seeing you in action."

Baird snorted, walking up behind him. "Who actually _wants _Locusts to attack, Cole? You need to get out more."

"Don't tell me you ain't a little curious!" Cole said as Marcus and my dad walked over to join us. "I'm willing to bet she relies on accuracy and speed." He crossed his arms and started scanning me with his eyes. What _was_ it with these Gears and their damn observations? I'd never felt so much like a science experiment in my life.

"I say we put her to the test," Baird added, an evil glint in his eye.

I backed away from them, feeling like I was falling into some sort of trap. "And how the hell are you gonna do that? Make me shoot the birds that fly past?"

Cole starting chuckling under his breath. "Now don't get all angry, Mel. We just wanna know how you do in the field is all."

I shrugged my shoulders, ready to be off the subject. "I do okay."

"_Okay_?" My dad made a sound of disapproval. "No Santiago does just _okay _on the battlefield."

"I've hardly had any "battlefield" experience at all!"

"But you _have_ had some," Marcus looked like he had his Thinking Cap on. "Maybe I'll ask your sergeant about you."

"Why do you feel the need to ask _anyone_?" I flailed my arms in a dramatic fashion. "Asking my sergeant about my battle skills would be absolutely _degrading_. Talk to Justin. We've fought together before, he'll tell you."

"But Justin won't give us an honest answer," Baird said. "Kid's too _infatuated _to tell us if there's anything bad you need to work on."

_So_ many insults and comments burned at the tip of my tongue. Baird had that effect on people, especially me. But instead of saying anything, I screeched wordlessly, whirled around and stomped away towards the truck like the teenage girl they were determined to make me feel like. "_Men_," I hissed to myself, low and menacing. They didn't think about what they said. If they were curious, they asked and prodded until they got their answers. Or maybe that was just _older_, war-torn men. _Justin_ never made me-

…Son of a bitch.

I would _not_ let their childish taunts change anything. I would not, I would not, I would _NOT_-

"I say we go out for drinks tonight!" Cole shouted from behind me, and I turned to watch as they all casually made their way over to the truck. "It's been a while since we cut loose, and the Cole Train's feelin' good!"

"Hell yeah! Cole's right, it's been too long. How 'bout it?" Baird lightly punched my dad on the arm.

"Hmm, what do you say, Marcus?" My dad raised a single eyebrow at him. No matter how annoyed or angry I was at them, I still couldn't look past how adorable Delta Squad was as they all glanced at their fearless leader with hopeful eyes. They were like dogs; ferocious fighters, loyal followers. I bit my lip to keep myself from smiling.

Marcus gave his team members a "look", like one a parent gives a child he knows is up to no good. Then he pulled the truck keys out if his pocket and made a noise in the back of his throat that said _I'm going to regret this_. "Fuck it," he muttered. "We'll get a few beers tonight. But if anyone gets out of hand, field rules don't apply. I _will_ leave your ass."

"Unless there's a bar fight," my dad added.

Marcus narrowed is eyes. "Yeah, but if one of you idiots gets in a fight I'll beat the shit out of you myself anyways."

"So we're going?" Baird asked, unimpressed by the threats.

"Yeah, we're going," Marcus grumbled, walking over to unlock the truck. "Now everyone get in before I think about this too much and change my mind." We quickly complied, Marcus and my dad sitting in the front two seats, and Cole, Baird and I squeezing into the back, me being the lucky one stuck with sitting in the middle. My shoulders pressed together as I scrunched up and tried to become as small as possible. We barely fit. Cole and Baird would have had a hard time getting in even if I wasn't present.

"You're coming out with us, right lil Santiago?" Cole looked down at me nudged me with his elbow. The truck rumbled to life and Marcus began to drive away.

I shrugged as much as I could in the cramped space. "Sure. I don't have to get up early anyways. Just promise me I'm not gonna become some sort of drunk soldier babysitter."

Cole shook with laughter, and so I shook as well. "Alright! Even though we didn't get to see you in action, we can at least see if you a light weight or not!" He grinned mischievously.

"You _better_ be a light weight," my dad commented in a stern voice from the front seat. "It'll freak me out if I go down faster than you."

"Is that a challenge?" I asked, leering, unable to help myself.

"What?" He spun his head around to look back at me. "_No_. It is _not_."

"Yes it is," Baird interjected.

"_No_," my dad repeated. "It's not. Baird, shut up."

"You shut up. She's a big girl, let her do what she wants."

"Both of you shut up," Marcus commanded. "Or I'll drive us into a building."

The inside of the truck instantly went quiet, Baird pouting, my dad fuming, and Cole holding in his laughter with his hands. I swear these men acted more and more like children every day. With the intense pressure of constant battle off their shoulders, Delta Squad was almost a group of regular guys. A couple minutes ticked by, and no one said anything.

But unlike Cole, I couldn't hold in my amusement for long. Giggles bubbled to my lips, soon followed by full-on laughter.

"What is it with teenage girls?" Baird asked, giving me a strange look, like I was some kind of unknown creature. "They fucking laugh at everything." I laughed even harder. "See? What the hell?"

"Maybe you're just too funny for your own good, Damon," Cole grinned over at him.

Baird looked like he was going to growl, but then casted his eyes back down to me, and he sneered. "Or maybe the Justin talk's got her hormones all out of whack."

"_That's_ it!" Cole's arms had to wrap around my waist before my hands reached Baird's throat. Though I seethed and glared, ready to go in for the kill, it was probably for the best. I'd get him back eventually.

* * *

><p>I don't think we could have picked a more beat up bar to go to. In fact, we'd chosen the one from a few weeks ago, the glorious little spot where I'd met a few guys.<p>

And then I threw a drink in one's face. And then they got angry. And _then_ they started chasing me. As much as it annoyed me, I wasn't worried. How could anyone worry when your new group went by the name of Delta Squad? I almost kind of hoped we'd run into that group of idiots.

We took seats at one of the few empty tables; the bar was surprisingly packed wall to wall. Baird shouted out an order of beers, and a big, round bartender slapped them down on our table in no time, lids off, the liquid splattering on the wooden surface. Hesitantly, I gripped one in my hand after everyone else snatched theirs up. The bottle was smooth, cool and filled with trouble. After giving a glance to the guys around me, I brought the drink to my lips and took drink number one.

"Bet you won't chug it," Baird told me, sounding like a child. Before I could tell him to shut up, my dad shot him a threatening glare.

"Baird, why are you trying to get my daughter drunk?" My dad looked as though he was grinding his teeth together. Baird's eyes narrowed devilishly. "And don't tell me something that's gonna make me beat the shit out of you." Instead of answering, Baird just shrugged with a grin still on his lips and took a few gulps of his beer.

"I suggest you tone it down a bit before these two start wailing on you, Baird," Cole laughed to himself and shook his head. "Gotta watch out for them Santiago's. They'll get you."

"Nothing I can't handle." Baird leaned forward on his elbows to look at me. "The new tag-team thing they've got going makes it more interesting."

I rolled my eyes and shoved away from the table, quickly growing tired of Baird purposely trying to piss me off. "I'm going to the bathroom," I muttered, setting down my beer and walking away from the table. I heard a smack and Baird grunt in pain, so I assumed my dad punched him once for me. I'd have to thank him later.

The line to the bathroom was just long enough to annoy me, but I reluctantly took my place against the wall with other waiting women, some normal, and some drunk off their asses. Doing my best to avoid unnecessary chatter with any of them, I pulled my COG tags out from under my shirt and absentmindedly played with the chain. The little gears always seemed to keep civilians at bay.

I vaguely started wondering why I was in such a cranky mood. I suspected it had something to do with the smoky, stuffy, claustrophobic room…and Baird. It always had something to do with Baird.

Then, probably one of the worst things that could have happened to me in that stupid line happened. Hunter Abel, a loud, trigger-happy, _hyperactive_ soldier I often got paired up with for patrol duties walked passed me quickly, a beer in his hand, probably heading for the men's room. If I hadn't been distracted, I could have recognized him faster and got the hell out of there. But just before I could turn my back to him, he stopped dead in his tracks and snapped his eyes to me.

"Ay, Feral! That you? It's been a while!"

I halted my escape, flinching and balling my hands into fist at the nickname. No one I actually liked ever called me that. I counted to three, and slowly turned to face him. "Hunter?" I said, keeping my voice neutral. "Hi. Long time no see." I started backing away, glancing over my shoulder a tiny bit to look for my table. The bathroom could wait.

Hunter followed, keeping close like a damn puppy dog. "Yeah! We haven't worked together in forever! How've you been?"

Hunter and I were the same age, but that's where the similarities ended. This guy's hair was as blond as it could be, and his eyes were bright blue. He had a _lot_ of energy, zero focus, and loved the sound of his own voice. I hated to be mean when he'd never really done anything wrong to make me dislike him, but…damn it working with him was a nightmare. He talked non-stop for hours about the most meaningless of things, and he wouldn't even notice if you were listening to him or not because he was so caught up in his stories. Half of them sounded stretched, or fake anyways.

"I've been good," I told him, stiffly walking away as I searched for Delta's table. "You?"

"Eh, I've been good, but patrol gets boring, ya know? Kinda wish something would blow up one of these days to give me something to do." I knew the feeling, and I also knew that if something _did_ blow up, Hunter would most certainly not be the first soldier called to the scene.

My eyes finally found the table, and then connected with my dad's. "I know what you mean," I murmured, paying hardly any attention to Hunter at all.

"So who you here with?" he asked, sort of walking in front of me to keep my attention. "I never thought you were one to come to places like this."

"I'm not. I'm here with the group of guys I worked with today." If I mentioned the name _Delta Squad_, I'd never get rid of him.

"Oh cool! I'll come check 'em out." Oh SURE, invite yourself over, it's totally cool.

Hunter kept up with my quick and rigid steps all the way to my table. The entire way there, my dad was judging my stressed reaction and giving me a concerned look. I shook my head at him reassuringly. I didn't need him making a big deal out of a small annoyance.

"Hey, Mel, back so soon?" Cole turned in his chair to watch me as I walked up and then nodded his head towards Hunter. "Did you two become buddies in the bathroom line?"

I gave Cole a dirty look that told him the joke was highly unappreciated. But damn him and his goofy grin, I couldn't actually stay angry for long.

"No, Cole. We did not. This is Hunter. Or Private Abel. Call him whatever." I gave a tired look at Hunter and gestured towards him with my left hand. "Hunter, these are…the guys I told you about." I slipped down into my chair, my arms straight at my sides and my eyes locked down at the table. Did I look as uncomfortable as I felt? The only real thought I could get through my head was that I hoped Hunter would keep his mouth shut about me.

My chances were slim. And to add to my distress, Marcus was doing his "I'm going to stare at you until I can read your mind" thing.

"So what, we don't have names?" Baird asked in a snide voice.

"Not if you want to _live_," I hissed across the table.

"Damon Baird," he introduced himself, smirking at me as he reached a hand out to Hunter. "That there is Dom Santiago, _that's_ Augustus Cole, and this cryptic guy over here is Marcus Fenix." Baird nodded his head at each of the guys. I grabbed my beer, took a nice, long drink, and then let my forehead fall and slam onto the table.

Hunter, oblivious to my strange behavior, eagerly introduced himself to Baird. I almost felt sorry for him. Baird didn't want to _meet_ him. He was just trying to be as annoying as possible. Hunter had become a member of one of his crazy mind games. Hopefully the rest of Delta found it as idiotic as I did.

Baird continued to talk to Hunter for another minute as I kept my head down on the table. Simple, pointless chatter that had Hunter rambling like no tomorrow.

Then Baird graciously dragged me into the conversation. "So how exactly do you know our good friend Melanie here?" I slowly dragged my forehead from the surface of the table to glower at Baird through a curtain of hair.

"Oh, Feral? We go way back. We used to work together all the time." There he goes with that nickname again. Anytime _anyone_ said it, it took a chip off my sanity and made my muscles tense.

"Who?" Baird asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Feral. You know, like a wild animal or something like that? That's what we call her back at the base." Only if you were immature and on the list of people I hated. What had I done to deserve this?

"Are you _serious_?" Baird was suddenly _very_ amused, which was never a good thing. "That's _her_ nickname?" He pointed a finger at me. "Little Melanie Santiago's known for being _wild_?" Baird squared his shoulders towards me and folded his hands together in formal way. "Well," he said. "Looks like Mel loves to party. Like an animal." He over-pronounced the three syllables in _animal_, flicking the word off his tongue.

"Nah, she doesn't party," Hunter said as he shook his head. I wished these bastards would stop talking about me like I wasn't there. "It's the fight in her that got her the nickname. Have you ever _seen_ her on the battlefield? Guys were talking about it for weeks! And whew, don't get me started on her temper…"

"_Alright_!" I interjected violently. "That's enough about me. Hunter, it was nice to see you, but I'm sure your group is just _dying_ to have you back-"

"Wait, wait, wait!" Baird interrupted. "I wanna hear more about your nickname."

My lip curled up as I resisted the urge to snarl. "Would you prefer a _demonstration_?" I growled between clenched teeth, my eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Temper, temper," Baird mocked, waving a finger at me. "I'm just trying to figure you out." He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms, looking smug. Like he'd just won a battle or something.

"Well _don't_," I told him angrily.

"Settle down, little ones…" Cole said, giving each of us a cautious glance.

"Wait a sec," Hunter interjected, scrunching his eyebrows at Marcus. _Please don't say anything stupid_. "Don't I know you from somewhere?" …_Bingo_.

I downed the rest of my beer in a single gulp and slammed it down. "I'm going to get more drinks," I said quickly, getting away from the table before Hunter started drooling over _Sergeant Fenix _and embarrassed me more. My dad stood as well, offering to come with me.

The bartender was occupied, and so I slumped against the bar with my head hung low over my forearms. My dad walked up behind me and placed a hand on my right shoulder, giving it a small squeeze.

"You alright, babe?" he asked, concern coating his voice.

I nodded, stood up straight and ran my fingers through my hair. "Yeah. I'm fine. Just…one of those days." My frustration was slowly lowering to a simmer, but it left me a bit fidgety. I gripped the wooden edge of the bar with both hands and leaned over to look for the round man. I bit my lip. My left foot tapped on the floor. I could really use another beer.

My dad laughed once without humor. "Yeah, I know what you mean. We all have our bad days, just like you." I snorted. "What?" he asked, sounding slightly offended. "You think we don't know how a _bad day_ feels?"

I sighed and shook my head. Where the hell was that bartender? "That's not what I meant," I told him, guilt seeping into the pit of my stomach. "I just…it's different with me. I don't just have bad days, I have these days where _everything_ makes me angry. Everything. I don't even have a probably reason for being angry, I just _am_. I…" My eyes closed as I sighed heavily. "I just get so _irritated_. I don't know how to explain it. I can't even tell you where it comes from."

My dad scooted closer, leaning against his crossed arms which were resting on the bar. I felt him nudge me with his elbow, and I opened my eyes to look at him. He was giving me a know-it-all smirk. "You're good, mija. Trust me. You may think you're different than most, and maybe you are. But with us…hell, a temper makes you fit right in."

The bartender finally graced us with his presents and I immediately turned towards him to prevent my dad from seeing the look on my face. I felt so annoying sometimes, like I was nothing but a burdening teenager with crazy emotions and irrational reactions who complained about things that didn't even _matter_. And then he comes over, says this stuff like he knows anything about everything, making my worries seemed insignificant. I never knew if it was a good thing that he knew how to help me with my problems, or if it was a bad thing that had to stoop down and help me in the first place.

They shouldn't call me feral for my temper. They should call just call me plain old emotional. Or the ticking time bomb.

Actually, no one should call me _anything_ other than my name, but hell. We'd passed that point a long time ago.

I got a hold of myself for a moment to order another round of beers, making sure to add them to Baird's tab. I almost bought a round for the whole damn place. I would have _loved _to see Baird's face after that. The old man nodded his head at me and moped on over to the other side of the bar, taking his sweet time while getting our drinks.

Unfortunately while I waited, an obnoxiously intoxicated man and woman approached me to my right. They screamed and slurred at each other, talking too animatedly for anyone sober to comprehend. Though I deeply wished they'd picked a spot further down than _right_ next to me, I gritted my teeth as I waited for my beers, using my same method I had in the bathroom line: I began fiddling with my COG tags. Maybe that would make the drunken couple keep their space.

The man gave the girl sloppy, disturbing looking kiss before stumbling away, promising her he'd return in a bit. She giggled and hiccupped, then did her best to seat herself on stool, her body swaying. I just continued with pulling at the chain around my neck, facing my dad and giving him a look that said _yikes, check out the mess behind me_. He through a quick glance over my shoulder, widened his eyes and starting laughing, turning away to try and muffle the sound.

It took a while, but the bartender finally walked over to us with an arm full of beers. He sat them down, letting a bit of the contents spill and hurried away to help another customer. It wasn't a surprise that one of the only things left in the world to make money off of was alcohol. My dad three beers and I grabbed two. We turned from the bar to make our way back to the table. I prayed that Marcus was able to get rid of Hunter.

There was a _tap, tap_ on my left shoulder, and I resisted the urge to flinch as I turned around. But it wasn't Hunter or some other person I knew, the thing I had been dreading. It was the drunk girl, the one from the stool, and she looked pissed.

_Oh, this should be good_.

"Yes?" I asked, putting on a nice, polite voice. My dad stopped and glanced at me, but I waved him on, showing that I would handle it.

The woman just sneered at me for a moment, crossing her arms over her chest, trying to look sober and stand straight. Her hair was a blond _mess_. Her clothes were dirty and wrinkled. She looked pretty rough. Her eyes moved up and down, scanning me a few times. I just stood there, waiting, furrowing my eyebrows and biting the inside of my lip.

A minute ticked by, but the woman did nothing but continue to glare at me. I was starting to get a bit angry myself, so before it escalated I decided to simply leave this woman alone with her problems.

"Well I'm just gonna…go," I said awkwardly, turning to leave.

The woman's hand snatched out surprisingly quickly for someone as unstable as her. I almost thought she was going for my neck until her fingers grasped the chain there, tugging at my COG tags and making them dangle between us. That moment was so shocking I didn't even react or try to stop her. Only alcohol could encourage someone to make such a dumb and idiotic move.

"You're a soldier, huh?" Her words slurred together, but she had no problem with coating them in venom. The woman yanked the chain, pulling me forward and shortening my sanity fuse.

I used the back of my hand to smack hers away, clenching my jaw as I tried to keep myself calm. "Yes." My voice stayed level and cold. "What of it?"

She made a noise of disgust and absolute disrespect. Her eyes rolled to the ceiling, and I was suddenly contemplating just how easy it would be to choke this girl out. "Bet you think these stupid tags make you better than everyone else, yeah?" She shifted her wait to one foot, over exaggerating all of her movements and making an ass out of herself.

_Listen, BITCH _was what I wanted to say, but I took a deep breath and let it out through my nose. "No. I don't." _They make me better than _you_, though._ "We're all in the same boat."

The woman threw her head back and let out a high-pitched bark of a laugh, drawing a bit of attention from some of the tables around us. "Same _boat_?" she exclaimed, her voice shrill enough to make me want to cover my ears. "You honestly _think_ so?"

"_Yes_," I bit out, clenching my hands into fist. "That's why I said it."

"Oh, and I bet you think we all get treated the same too?" She crossed her arms and hiccupped.

"Where are you going with this?" I demanded, my anger starting to pool over. No one would be safe if this bitch pushed me over the edge. Not tonight.

She had the audacity to _smile_ at me, a cruel sneer that contorted her face. "What I'm _getting at_ is that _you_," she jabbed me in the chest with her finger, and then left it there. "and all of your other _Gear_ buddies think you can do whatever the _fuck_ you want, all because you know how to shoot a fucking gun."

_This bitch is TOUCHING me. _

I grabbed her wrist and squeezed it. Hard. "_No_," I stopped her, my voice rising. "We do not act _however the fuck we want_ because we can shoot a _fucking_ gun. We do what we're told for the sake of _humanity_." The woman started yanking at her wrist but couldn't get it free. I just kept on going. "We get treated differently because we have people _risking their lives_ to guarantee you food, water, clothes and a life of your own." I let her go, and she brought her wrist up to her chest, rubbing it. "So the next time you come across a Gear," I hissed, lowering my voice so only she could hear. "I suggest you fall to your knees and _thank _them for what they've done. Thank them for _fighting_ and _dying_ for everyone, and above all, thank them for fighting for ungrateful fuckers like you."

The entire time she just glared daggers at me, hating me as much as she could. But I didn't care. You didn't become a Gear without acquiring a couple thousand haters. I just loved setting them straight every once in a while. I took a step back from the woman, feeling satisfied as I gave her one last lingering gaze. Then I turned around, two beers still held in between the fingers of one hand, and began to walk away.

"Fuck you!" She spat behind me. "Go cry to your fucking mommy about it!" Then I suddenly lurched forward, dropping the beers to the floor and spilling them as the woman shoved me.

Another moment of pure shock washed over me as I watched the beer pour out of the bottles and cover the wood beneath my feet. Did she shove me? Did she _really_…_truly_ shove me? Like a twelve-year-old looking for a playground brawl?

Was this _really _happening?

That was the moment something in me snapped. The moment I began to literally see red. Though it wasn't noticeable on the outside, this woman had just shoved me straight into _Feral_ zone, that crazy, angry girl that everyone at the base just loved to talk about.

_Let's fucking do this_.

_Tons_ of people were watching now as I slowly turned around to face her again. After simply looking at her for a moment, watching her huff and puff, I licked my teeth and smiled. The monster in me couldn't wait to hear the satisfying _crunch_ of my fist connecting with her jaw. One swing would be all I needed to _drop_ this bitch. Baird and the guys would finally get the show they'd been waiting for.

_The guys_.

Almost all of my anger instantly dissolved when I remembered Delta Squad, Marcus, my _dad_. How juvenile would I look if I got into a fight with some drunk girl at a bar? It wouldn't be a very _long_ fight, but still, the only thing I could think about now was the possibility of disappointing any of them. It was enough to make me take a deep breath, grit my teeth, and think twice about what I was planning to do. I glanced over my shoulder, scanning the room until I found the table about fifteen feet away.

All of their eyes were locked on me. Marcus was tense, Cole was surprised, Baird was eager, and my dad was worried as hell. He suddenly stood from his chair, almost making it tip backwards, and made his way over to me.

I turned back around to look at the woman as my dad appeared at my side, gripping my shoulders and pulling me backwards. "Don't do anything stupid, Mel. She's not worth it." His voice was a gentle whisper in my ear. I nodded, letting it calm me down and soften the anger in the pit of my stomach. His touch reassured me that everything would be okay.

"Let's go," he told me, moving a hand to my back and beckoning me towards the table. I just nodded, feeling numb as we began to make our way back to the table. _This is for the best_ I had to tell myself. _This is for the best_.

I guess all these drunken bastards _wouldn't_ be getting a show. Hah, I bet they were all waiting for it, too. _Wonder how fast the COG girl can beat the drunk one!_ So sorry I had to disappoint them. But it looked like that stupid woman would live to see another-

"Fuck you, you stupid bitch!" She screamed, refusing to let me leave the fiasco behind me. "Tell all your dead Gear friends I said hi!"

Four steps later, I was out of my dad's reach, and in front of the woman with my right arm pulled back. I vaguely heard him trying to make me stop.

I knew my dad didn't want me to do it, I knew Marcus would probably lecture me about not letting things get to me later on, and I knew Baird would find a million ways to make fun of me for this because he was a complete and utter _douche bag_.

But _damn_. The satisfying crunch of my fist connecting with that woman's jaw _did_ sound good.

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><p><strong>Oh LAWD! <strong>**This chapter ended up being **_**way**_** longer than I thought it would be. Geez, it just kept going! But it's finally done, and that's all that matters. **

**I know my updates come in a bit slow, but it's only because of school getting in the way. I'm not losing inspiration or anything like that. Just lacking free time :) Bear with me, though, because I'm in it to win it!...or whatever. **

**Please oh please leave any kind of review! They make me feel amazing :D**


	5. Chapter 5

**Ugh, for some reason, I spent a lot of time giving the screen blank stares with this chapter. But once it got rolling, everything fell into place. Oh, but one thing about the chapter before? I made a small edit, changing a part that said "Corporal Abel" to "Private Abel." Yeah, it was sort of an accident that I didn't catch until recently…sorry! But it didn't do much damage I don't think. The only reason I even went back to change it is because eventually, Hunter Abel is indeed referred to as "Private Abel" :) **

**Alright! The beginning of this chapter is dedicated to those who were thirsting for a bit more violence after the end of the last. It was also inspired by me eating terrible soup. Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Five: Blood and Soup <strong>

The COG base cafeteria had always been such a dreary place. Cracked tile, old tables, crappy food, and at the moment, quite empty. The vegetable soup had _looked_ decent enough. But three bites in, I'd come to the conclusion that it tasted like vomit. It didn't really matter, though. I wasn't very hungry.

I sat alone at one of the white tables in a cold, steel chair. I hung my head low over my bowl of soup, rested my chin in one hand, and stirred the murky liquid with the other. It wasn't the greatest way to spend my free time, but I couldn't quite get myself to care enough. The only thing I could really think about at the moment was the night before, the stiffness in my shoulders, and the small pain in the knuckles in each of my hands.

I remember being consciously aware of my fist connecting with that drunken woman's jaw perfectly. I remember the deep pleasure of watching her crumple to the ground, and I remember the miniscule sized guilt that rose in my chest when my father angrily shouted out my name at me.

What I _didn't_ remember was then making the decision to fall down on my knees over the woman. I didn't recall actually telling my body to bring my left arm back. And I didn't remember having any control over myself as I hit her a second time, a third time, a fourth and then a fifth.

The anger had been so intense, so strong, so _potent_. The punches just kept going, and it felt so _good_. I'd never snapped like that before. Sure, I have incidents, but I can normally keep myself under control. As I thought about the night before, I could almost still taste the rage as it burned on the tip of my tongue.

Or maybe it was just this awful soup.

Thinking about the situation made me anxious and shaky. My emotions had never been so unstable before. What good was I on the battlefield if I couldn't even get through a social outing without trying to kill somebody? It had taken my dad _and_ Marcus to yank me off of the unconscious woman before I could land anymore blows. And then after they did, I was sick enough to feel pride as I admired my work. Her nose was broken. Her lip had busted open. She bled all over the floor. And I was _proud_. I didn't feel a drop of remorse as my father and Marcus dragged my crazy ass out of the bar.

I dropped my spoon into the soup and clenched my hands into fist. I didn't want to think about it anymore because I was getting angry again. Angry at _myself_. I just wanted to forget any of it ever happened.

I'm sure that's _not_ how things would work out, but for the time being, I was going to glare at my disgusting soup and not think about anything. Later on, I had a short patrol shift that would end before the sun went down. After that, nothing.

The voice in the back of my mind told me that the natural thing to do would be calling Delta Squad's apartment. I could spend a couple hours with my dad, joke with Cole, chat with Marcus and glare at Baird. But I didn't think I'd be able to face them. At least, not until another twenty four hours passed by.

"The soup? I thought you were smarter than that."

My head snapped up from my hand to find Justin, standing next to me with his hands stuffed in the pockets of an old pair of sweatpants. He wore a white t-shirt, his hair was sweaty and he looked like he'd just come from a workout. I felt a bite of jealousy. A workout sounded great.

"Justin," I said, sighing the name and feeling instant relief. He was the _one_ person I felt like I could face today.

He pulled a chair up and sat to my right, our shoulders almost touching. He folded his arms and leaned over them on the table, letting his head droop. "You look rough," he told me, smirking as he gave me a nudge.

"Thanks," I muttered, turning my attention back to my soup. It looked so unpleasant.

Though I could feel Justin's eyes on my face, I continued to stare at my cooling meal, swirling it around with a spoon, not daring to look up _or_ take another bite. I took a strand of my hair with my free hand, slowly twirling it around my fingers. Seconds ticked by.

"Wanna talk about it?" Justin asked in a soft voice. Both he and I knew that even if I didn't want to talk about it, he'd get it all out of me eventually.

I pushed the bowl of soup away from me, the thought of putting the night before into words upsetting my stomach. A scowl twisted my lips and I wrapped my arms around myself.

"Hey," he laughed gently, reaching over to grab one of my arms so he could pull it away from my waist. "Since when are you so nervous?"

_Good question_. "I'm not nervous," I told him, looking down. "Just embarrassed. I made a fool of myself last night."

"It couldn't have been _that_ bad," he teased, finding my unusual behavior amusing. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, closing my eyes against the knots in my stomach. Just _thinking_ about what I'd done was making me nauseous.

I swallowed and furrowed my eyebrows. For some reason, it was hard for me to look at him. "I lost control of my temper again," I said in a low voice. That was a good start, right? It basically summed everything up…in a very small nutshell.

Justin made a circular movement with his hand that meant _elaborate_. I sighed. "We went out to a bar, and there was this woman there..." I began, tucking hair behind my ear. My stomach churned. "She was drunk off he _ass_, and…long story short, she…said some things." I had to grind out the last part between my teeth.

Justin quirked an eyebrow at me, and I gave him a guilty sideways glance as I shrunk into myself. "So, I lost control and sort of…completely beat the shit out of her." I cringed after I said it, waiting for his blatant disappointment and the lecturing that would follow. Justin knew better than anybody about my unstable anger.

But to my complete and utter shock, he suddenly hid his face in the crook of his arm and burst out laughing. He was so loud the sound filled the cafeteria and echoed off the walls. I just shook my head at him in disbelief, not nearly amused as he was with the situation.

"It isn't funny!" I scolded. "I broke the woman's nose!" My words were only fuel to the fire, and his laughter grew in intensity. I just grimaced and turned away from him, unable to let his cheerful mood rub off on me. Maybe my crabbiness from the night before hadn't vanished just yet. The abrupt knots in my stomach confirmed my suspicion. I wrapped my arms back around my waist and hunched over, squeezing my eyes closed at the pain.

"Whoa," Justin's hysterics came to an immediate halt as he watched me clench at my sides. "Hey, you okay?" He turned in his chair to where he faced me completely. I felt his hands moved up arms and then stop to rest on my shoulders. There was a spasm of pain in my stomach again, and I let out a small gasp.

"Melanie?" Justin's hands turned me and made me face him. His voice sounded panicked. "Mel, what's wrong?"

I lifted my head up just enough to look at him. "I don't know," I croaked out. "Something's…wrong with my stomach, I think."

"Obviously," Justin said sarcastically. "Maybe…maybe you're sick from last night?"

I shook my head with my eyes closed. "No, I only had one beer. And I felt fine this morning." The pain rolled into pure stirring and nausea. I could feel it starting to burn its way up my throat.

"Well what have you eaten today?" Justin asked, placing his palm against my left cheek. The sensation surprised the hell out of me and made me shiver. In the back crevices of my mind, I was randomly and extremely thankful that Baird wasn't here to see this. "You don't have a fever," he murmured, observing my face. Then his eyes grew anxious. "But not gonna lie, you look super pale right now."

I tried to focus past the awful sensation in my stomach and his cool hand pressed against my cheek. This morning before I left the barracks I'd eaten a harmless granola bar. I ate them almost every day and I'd never had a problem. It couldn't have been the culprit.

My stomach gave a violent lurch, and I shot to my feet with a loud groan. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. Justin quickly followed my actions, keeping a cautious hand on my shoulder. "I just at a freaking breakfast bar this morning. That's it." I leaned over to grip the edge of the table with one hand, and kept the other wrapped around me. The burning sensation again started clawing up my throat. I was going to be ill.

"You sure?" Justin asked, lost and confused. I was a mess and he just didn't know what to do.

I nodded my head vigorously. "_Yes_, I haven't eaten anything else…" My words suddenly faded off as I remembered something. A scowl contorted my lips.

I _had_ eaten something else today. I'd only taken a couple bites of it, but I guess they had been enough to destroy me.

Very slowly, I turned my head to glare at the bowl of soup I'd gotten earlier. It was thick, cold and barely touched. Beneath its murky surface lurked something vile, something _evil_.

My stomach heaved, and I started to lose it. My hands shot up to my mouth. _Oh God._ I was suddenly flying across the cafeteria to the nearest trash can, trying my hardest to not to release the remains of that disgusting soup, among other things, onto the tile floor of the COG cafeteria. _OH GOD._ When I reached the trash bin, I gripped the edges of it and hunched over as my stomach violently and painfully emptied all of its contents into the container. My eyes watered, my face burned and all the other shitty things that happen when you throw up _happened_. Justin jogged over a moment later and rested a hand at the small my back, trying to sooth me.

Then after I was done, I just stayed there for a while, breathing heavily as tears ran down my face. I never wanted to eat a damn thing from the cafeteria ever again. Ration bars were better than this shit. They all tasted the same, but at least they didn't try to kill me or make me violently ill.

Fucking soup. I knew I shouldn't have gotten it.

* * *

><p><em>I hate<em>. _My life_.

It couldn't have been more than a couple hours after my sickly display as Justin and I made our ways towards the COG base entrance. We were dressed in full armor, our Lancers loaded, and our helmets tucked under our arms. We had just been informed that today's shift would be more than a simple patrol. Almost everyone had been called in due to the base being on "high alert." We were assured that it was nothing too serious and that the base shouldn't be in any danger, but still. Everyone was a bit on edge, even our cool and collected sergeant.

There had been multiple reports already about Locust attacks outside of the city, always groups of thirty or forty. Teams were being shipped out by the minute to cut them off.

Lucky for me and my fragile stomach, I was ordered to stay behind. I knew that if I was at a hundred percent, I'd be pissed off and dying to be _anywhere_ but the base. But I'd be more than happy if I could make it through the whole shift without hurling for the second time.

My stomach started churning again and I made a pitiful noise. _Why me? Why?_

"Are you gonna be okay?" Justin asked, shouldering his Lancer as we walked.

"Probably not," I said honestly. "But I can't really do anything about it." I'd get punched if I tried to use being sick as an excuse for sitting out a day.

Mark Jefferson saw us walking up and jogged over, breathing hard and looking flustered. "Hey guys," he huffed. He held his Lancer at one side and his helmet at the other. "Everyone's been told to group up at the gates, Sergeant's orders." Justin and I nodded and we all ran over together. Once we reached the gates, we found the rest of our group among others.

Me and Justin were put in a squad with Jefferson, Hunter Abel (ugh), and a quiet guy we called Finn. His last name was Valentine, but he insisted that we not use it. Finn was the only one I didn't feel like punching from time to time besides Justin. This also included our Sergeant who was angrily marching his way over to us.

Decarlo was a blunt man with no hair and tan skin. Sometimes I felt kinda sorry for him. He was twice the age of any of us, and probably felt like he got stuck with a bunch of kids. There were times when he looked plain _mad_, but it was never at us, so we made sure to continue to do our best and never let him down.

Well, actually, right now he was giving Justin and I a bit of a glare. "What the hell took you two so damn long?" He stopped right in front of us and put his hands on his hips like he was ready to scold us. "Didn't you get the message? We're on high alert right now."

I lowered my eyes, ready to apologize. But Justin gave me a sharp pat on the back. "Food poisoning," he said. "I had to make sure she wasn't going to come out here and throw up on your pretty shoes."

Decarlo snorted. "Well shit. Just make sure you save it for the enemy and you'll be fine." I just nodded and took it as an _I forgive you_.

"So what's the plan, guys?" Hunter came bouncing over to the group, eyes wide and breathing hard. "We moving out or what? Oh, hey Feral! Where'd you go last night? I was looking everywhere for you!"

Justin gave me a suspicious glance. I brought my hand to my face and tried my best not to grumble. "Tell you later," I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose with my fingers.

"Calm your shit, Abel," Decarlo craned his neck and looked around us. "Where the hell's Finn? I'm only saying this once."

"Here," a deep voice from behind me said. I turned to see Finn's expressionless face and stepped aside to let him in the circle.

"Alright then," Decarlo shifted his weight and started checking his Lancer as he spoke to us. "We're shipping out as soon as the first group of squads arrive, so stand by and be ready. Don't freak out, either. You all knew you'd be facing close combat eventually. Stick to your instincts, trust your squad members, and show that you're ready for this. Got it?" He'd always been a man who got straight to the point.

We all gave a low chorus of "Sir, yes _sir_."

"Good. Now let's move out front. The others should be rolling up any minute." Sergeant Decarlo quickly turned and walked towards the gates and we followed close on his heels. Lots of other Gears were crowded around as they waited for the first groups to arrive. Some of them turned to watch as we made our way to the front of the pack, shaking their heads and muttering. They didn't have a problem with any of us, but they _did _get nervous when we were sent out. How bad could things be if the _trainees_ were being shipped to the battlefield?

I kept my eyes forward, doing by best to not let the other soldiers see how nervous I was getting. My stomach churned, but I didn't know if it was the sickness or me just being anxious.

"Alright people," Sergeant Decarlo stopped us when we reached the area just outside the base entrance. "Get ready. They should be approaching." We all cast our eyes outward towards the gravel road the led up the gates. I unintentionally began to strain my ears as I listened hard for the rumble of 'Dills. My eyes stayed fixed on the horizon. Any moment now they would appear.

A minute or so passed, but no soldiers arrived. One by one, the lingering Gears started to get restless. I glanced over at Decarlo who was turned away, listening to his radio intently.

"Small delay, team," he told us, furrowing his eyebrows. "Only a few more minutes. Stand by. Use this time to check your radios."

My right hand went to my ear as I gave Justin a questioning glance. "Everyone's working?" I asked. He nodded, followed by Hunter and Finn. I always did like the earpieces better than those heavy handhelds.

Another long moment went by, and Decarlo gave a frustrated growl. He pressed his finger to his radio. "To all approaching squads, this is Decarlo of Unit Twelve. What's the hold up?" He paused to listen, then repeated himself. "Approaching squads, this is Unit Twelve. Are you receiving?" He paused again, and then dropped his hand with a frown. "Something's not right here…"

Small tremors in the ground made their way up my legs, and I shot a look at the horizon again. It must have been the vehicles that caused the vibrations. There was something wrong with the radios, but they had finally arrived. I took a few steps forward with my Lancer in front of me. My heartbeat sped slightly.

The ground shudders began to grow in intensity, but no Armadillo's appeared over the skyline. There was suddenly a small stirring in my stomach that I tried to ignore. "What is that?" Justin asked warily, walking over to stand next to me. His eyes squinted as he gazed ahead of us. Finn stepped forward as well. His dark eyes were filled with suspicion, but angled towards the ground instead of the horizon. I quickly followed his stare. Finn had always been an insightful guy.

"Finn?" I asked. "What do you think?" He didn't answer. But he did rev the chainsaw on his Lancer.

I whirled around to face the other Gears. "Take cover!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. The tremors had escalated to an all-out quake, rattling my teeth and humming in my ears. All of the others were finally paying attention, and they knew what was coming. Almost instantly everyone scattered in different directions, leaving me out in the open, alone. "_Shit_," I hissed, panicking as I spun back around. I couldn't even hear myself _think_ over the roar of the shaking.

And then the ground erupted at three points up the road. Rocks and debris shot into the air, leaving a massive, gray cloud of dirt. _Quick! Where do I go?_ Shots began firing off all round me. Some pelted off the gate right _next_ to me. _WHERE DO I GO?_ My eye caught a concrete barrier thirty yards away to the left. I crouched low, then took off for it faster than I'd ever ran before.

The radio in my ear was suddenly on _fire_, filled with the screams and commands of the Gears around me.

"Where the hell's the first group?"

"Did they get held up?"

"Since when have the Locust gotten so close to base?"

"They must have set a diversion!"

"They _knew_ our numbers would be divided?"

"No one ever said they were stupid."

"Hold the front line! _Don't_ let them in the base!"

I peaked over my shoulder, my heart racing at a thousand beats a minute. There they were, the Locust. Big, disgusting, gray Drones climbing out of E-Holes, roaring and hissing and shooting at us all. Bullets bounced off the concrete near my face, and I sank down with a yelp. "Where the fuck's my helmet?" I screamed, my eyes shooting left and right looking for the damn thing. I was on the edge of hysteria. I simply couldn't get a grip.

"Control, this is Private Santiago of Unit Twelve! Home base is under _attack_. Are you listening in?" I received a crackle of static, followed by more chatter from the other Gears. "_Hello_?" My voice shook slightly. "Is anyone outside of home base _acknowledging _this?" More static. Then more shouting.

"_Fuck_!" I screeched, my chest burning with rage. I _hated_ Locust, and I _hated_ when they fucking shot at me for no damn reason. My hand shot to my ear and switched the radio off, stopping the endless stream of voices that were nothing but a distraction. I glanced down at my Lancer, checking it, making sure the clip was full. These Locust bastards had no idea how big of a mistake they had made trying to infiltrate a goddamn _COG_ base, and it was about time I started letting them know.

The next moment I was up out of my crouch, glaring down my Lancer and unloading the clip into the first gray thing I saw move. It hissed and screamed, then crumpled to the ground in a pool of its own blood. _One_. Another Drone came charging up, firing at me with a Hammerburst. I leapt over my concrete barricade, rolled and then took him out as well. _Two_.

It was time for me to find some more cover. I took off to the right, spraying a line of fire at anything that shot at me. There were two men behind a stack of sand bags, and I dove in to join them.

"Shit, man!" One of the men braced his back against the bags and reloaded his lancer. He wore _his_ helmet, and it muffled his voice slightly. "Where'd all these things come from?"

"Fuck if I know," his buddy replied. Then he turned to face me. "Who're you?" he asked, sending blind fire over his right shoulder.

"Is this really a time for introductions?" I replied, having to shout so he could hear me. Then my eyes caught something on the ground next to him. I almost moaned. "Hey, let me borrow this!" I snatched the Frag grenade out of the dirt and turned to look for a target. Forty yards, straight ahead. Three Locust crouched behind another stack of sandbags. I dropped my Lancer, stood up and started swinging the grenade by its chain. I took careful aim, squinting my eyes to help concentrate. Then I reared back and launched the thing. "_Frag out_!" I announced, and then I ducked back down to watch as it landed right where I wanted it to.

The three Locust only got a second's glance at the grenade before it exploded. They were all sent flying different directions in pieces. "Nice throw…" The man next to me gave a thumb's up, and I found myself smiling. _Five_.

"Hey!" The other guy nudged his buddy. "D'you hear that? First group's pulling up! And one of the 'Dill's got Delta Squad!"

"What?" I scrambled to switch my radio back on, and then I was instantly listening to Marcus mid-shout as he told us to hang on a bit longer. I looked over my shoulder as I reloaded my Lancer, and sure enough two Armadillos were rolling up at full speed. Even though Drones were still shooting at me, I already felt victorious.

The 'Dills skidded to a halt and some of the Locust turned around to face them. The hatch on one of them popped open and a Frag shot out from the opening. It landed right into one of the E-Holes, exploding and sealing it up nice and tight.

I jumped over the sand bags and started running forward, taking out another Locust who was in the process of reloading. _Six_. I stopped and crouched next to the dead Drone, observing the battle around me.

The Gears now outnumbered the Locust, making them fall back. Only a dozen or so remained, and they were dropping fast. In the corner of my eye I could see more Gears running over as they jumped out of the 'Dills, but I didn't pay attention to who they were because my eyes were suddenly locked on Justin. He was the furthest person up besides the men who'd just arrived. Two Drones had their sights locked on him, and they fired relentlessly from only a few feet away. Justin sent back some blind fire, doing his best to keep low behind his barricade.

Without thinking, I shot up from my crouch and sprinted his way. Justin managed to drop one, and I brought my Lancer up, ready to take out the other. But the Drone suddenly roared and charged, leaping over Justin's barricade and taking him by surprise.

_Fuck_. I couldn't shoot now, not without being sure I wouldn't hit Justin in the process. But they weren't too far away now.

Justin struggled to raise his Lancer in an attempt to use his chainsaw. The Drone was too close, too persistent, too _big_. Its arms flailed aggressively and knocked Justin's weapon away as it tried to grab for his throat.

I reached him a second later, dropped my Lancer and grabbed for the knife Justin always kept strapped around his right thigh. My adrenaline levels hit an all time high as I jumped on top of the Drone, my arms wrapped around its neck as I yanked the fucker back. Then I hauled myself up onto his shoulders when he let go of Justin and started jamming the blade of the knife into its thick-ass skin. _Go. Back. To where. You came from!_ I didn't get much damage done, but the Drone reared its head back and screeched, so I must have done something right. It was _angry_ now.

I was on his back about four seconds and got ten good stabs in before the Drone whirled and smacked me off with its huge arm. I hit the dirt with a _thud_, landing right on top of my Lancer. The blade of the chainsaw cut into my left palm, but I hardly felt it as I grabbed the weapon and rolled to my back. The Drone threw its head back and gave another furious roar before charging its ugly ass right towards me, claws out, ready to rip me to shreds. Somewhere to my left, Justin screamed out to me.

As soon as the Drone was directly over me, I turned my Lancer upside down and started up the chainsaw. Using every bit of strength in my arms, I jammed the blade into the Drone's stomach, letting out a scream of my own as I stood and brought the saw up and through the fucker's torso. Its screams of rage turned into drowning gurgles as it fell to the ground and bled to death.

I stared at the body for a moment, listening to my racing heart and ragged breathing. My head started spinning. Something dripped from my arms into the gravel. My stomach lurched.

Blood. _Everywhere_.

There was a _lot_ of blood.

I was absolutely covered in it from head to toe. It coated my arms and dripped down my face. I felt drenched, like I'd never be clean again. Absentmindedly, I let my Lancer slip from my fingers and fall to the ground. I brought my slick hands up and just looked at them, _amazed_ at how much blood was on me. It was a brilliant red, and still warm in some places. I was so focused on the slippery liquid that I hadn't even realized the battle was over.

Silence. Everything was very quiet for a moment. The only thing I could hear was my heart hammering in my ears.

Then cheers erupted. The battle had ended. No one was dead. We were victorious.

But I was still caught up my own shock to react. Slowly, my eyes found my Lancer on the ground. I observed it for a moment, watching as blood dripped from the blade of the chainsaw.

_Huh,_ I thought calmly. _I've never used the chainsaw before_.

"Melanie?" Justin's voice was very close, but I hadn't even noticed him walk over. "Mel, are you okay?" He cautiously reached a hand out but then stopped, deciding against the thought of touching me. And honestly, who would at the moment?

"She's fine," another man close by said. When the fuck did Baird get there? "Just some battle aftershock and jitters. Hey!" Baird snapped his fingers in front of my face. "Snap out of it, girly. You're freaking your dad out."

My dad? He was here too? _Well now it's a party_.

"Mel." My dad gripped my shoulders and shook me once. "Mel, look at me. _Look at me_." My eyes found his as I tried to slow my rapid breathing. He looked concerned to the point of pain. I wanted to reassure him and tell him that I was fine, that his worrying was pointless. But I just couldn't seem to get the words out of my mouth.

"Damn, did you _see_ her?" I heard Cole ask. "Baby, you won't _ever_ see me jumpin' on the back of a Drone like that."

"She wasn't lying when she said she hadn't had very much battlefield experience," Marcus muttered. "I think she's in shock. Dom, she may need to go see Hayman."

"_No_," I suddenly forced out, almost screaming the word and making my dad jump. Then I took in an unsteady breath and lowered my voice. "No. That woman is dreadful, there's no way I'm going to see her."

My dad sighed and his shoulders sagged with relief. "_Whew_, Mel, you had me worried there for a second." He shook his head, trying to get a hold of himself. "Baby, are you okay? You almost gave me a damn heart attack."

Baird snorted. "I think she almost gave herself a heart attack."

"She almost gave _everyone_ a heart attack!" Justin bent over and leaned against his knees, completely baffled. "Good God, woman, what were you_ thinking_?"

"About saving your ass." My adrenaline rush had all but burned out, leaving me shaking and exhausted. Unconsciously, I wrapped an arm around my stomach as it started stirring. Like earlier. "Or did you forget about that part?"

Justin just huffed and started searching around for something on the ground, grumbling to himself. He bent over and picked up his knife with two fingers from the Drone's pool of blood. "Awe man," he smirked. "That's just gross."

I sent him a glare, ready to make a sarcastic comment about being _caked _in the stuff, but decided not to when a sharp pain shot through my stomach. I ground my teeth together, scowling. _This can't be happening. Not now._

"You don't look too hot, little Santiago." Cole crossed his arms and pursed his lips. "I _know_ that look. And it's never followed by anything good, _that's_ for sure."

The pain, the nausea, the churning, the _burning_, it was all back. The emotional shock of battle had completely faded, leaving me and my sickness behind. I was able to forget it for a little while, but now…

"Oh don't tell me you have a problem with blood," Baird said, laughing at me. "Because if you do, you picked the wrong profession." I couldn't even give him a sarcastic remark. I was too far gone.

And then I was on my knees, throwing up for the second time that day, saying goodbye to whatever dignity I had left. My last and only hope was that some of it got on Baird's boots. Everyone simply stood in a circle around me, and Justin had to stop my dad from freaking out again.

"Nope," Justin said, sighing and kneeling next to me with a tired smile his face. He placed a hand on my back and looked up at Baird. "Blood doesn't bother her. Just bad soup."

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><p><strong>Awesome, Chapter 5 complete! Hope you enjoyed it. I figured I couldn't go much longer without adding in a little action. It <strong>_**is**_** a Gears fic. Anyways, please leave any kind of response! I'm so thankful for those who have reviewed and added this to their alert/favorites list so far! Oh, and remember, I'm always open for ideas!**

**Merry Christmas and happy holidays! I love you all! :D**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey guys! How were the holidays? Were they magical? Or are you simply glad that you got out of them alive? I'm a bit two-sided on the whole situation myself. But here we all are now in 2012, so let's get the ball rolling!**

**Again, sorry for the delay. I lost someone close to me, the holidays were rough, and it took me three tries to finally come up with a chapter I was happy with. I wrote THREE DIFFERENT DRAFTS OF THIS until I was satisfied. The first ones were just…blah. But I'm back on track, and as a plus, this is now filled with more action. *Explosion and guitar music* There were a few people who liked that part of the last chapter, so I figured I'd keep it up for another.**

**A super huge thanks to those that keep reviewing. I love you guys, and I mean that! *Gets teary eyed* Oh, and remember: If there's any little event you'd like to see, or an idea you want to come to life let me know! Especially if it's funny or lighthearted. Because whether I really meant for it too or not, this story is starting to take a turn for the serious! **

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><p><strong>Chapter Six: The Mitchell Twins (Part One)<strong>

"No _way_, Granny. You're cheating, I know you are!"

"Trust me, Blondie. I don't need to cheat to beat your sorry arse. What's the score now? Twelve to four?"

"Stand up and turn out your pockets!"

"Oh sit back down you big baby and deal the cards again."

It was Delta Squad, an older, gray haired woman named Bernie and me all squished together in a circle with playing cards held up to our noses. We were taking a breather from yet another intense patrol shift that was only half done. Ever since the little battle on the COG base's front porch, my father insisted that I join them on as many patrol shifts as possible. I didn't know if it was because they thought I was an asset, or if he just couldn't stand the thought of me not being in his line of sight every moment of every day.

Watching me jump that grub had given him a little scare.

Cleaning up afterwards had been the worst part. I thought I would need a water hose to get all the blood off my armor, and the tank top I had on under it? I never wanted to wear it again. And I'd _never_ felt so invigoratingly clean after taking a shower. The rivers of red that slipped off my body and down the drain seemed like they'd never end. Anytime part of me was clean, there was another spot that needed scrubbing. And the part that freaked me out the most were the bone chips. Yeah. _Chips of bone_. From the Locust. I'd noticed them on me when I first took my armor off. It was simply disgusting, and it made me question if I'd ever use the chainsaw bayonet again.

But none of this was truly unexpected. Hell, I was a COG soldier. I wasn't doing my job if I didn't get a little blood on me every once in a while. War was a messy thing. So why would my dad freak out after just one little incident? An incident that I escaped from unharmed and unscathed?

_Because he's lost everyone, you fool. You're all he's got left._

Okay, I understood that part. The war had taken our entire family away, leaving my father and I alone until we finally found each other. So when he insisted that I tag along with them, I just smiled, nodded and followed instructions. And though the combination of their shifts and mine could get exhausting, I couldn't deny the fact that I liked being with him.

Bernadette Mataki was _fantastic_. She spoke with the strong, aggressive accent of a Southern Islander. I'd just met her only a few hours before and I already thought she was one of the funniest people ever. This was mainly because of her constant Baird tormenting. When she was around, Baird was kept on a short leash. He even shut up when she told him to. Well…sometimes he did.

We simply used the dirt as a surface for our game and wooden crates and rocks for seating. Throughout the entire session, Bernie and Baird had a rivalry going on despite us other players. Bernie was currently winning.

"This doesn't make sense! Check her, Dom. I swear she's got extra cards in her pockets."

My dad shrugged his shoulders and tossed his cards to the ground. "Whatever man, I'm out." Marcus and I followed. There were only so many rounds of cards you could take before it was no longer good enough to distract you from the surrounding world.

Baird growled and gathered our cards in his hands. "Cole? What do you say, one more round?"

Cole stood up and reached towards the sky, stretching. "Nah I'm good. I think it's time to get moving again anyways."

"He's right," Marcus added as he picked up his Lancer to check it. "Let's get going."

Grumbling, Baird stacked all the cards together, including the ones he'd snatched from Bernie's hand, and stuffed them in an old plastic bag before putting it in his armor. It was a while before Bernie's smug grin left her face.

The first half of our patrol had been a bit more physical than I was use to. Today we were exploring abandoned structures or areas, and the last building had been nothing but pieces of its original self. Each surface we walked on was tilted, cracked or crumbling. We even had to get some climbing in; that gave my upper body strength quite a workout. Patrolling with Delta would _definitely_require me to keep up my workout regime.

Our next destination was an old office building in much better condition than the first. At least the structure still stood upright. But it had eight floors of fun that we had to check out, including a basement. A dark, creepy basement. Awesome.

We were dropped by Ravens today, resulting in our long walk there (which was eventless.) Most of the trip was spent in silence besides the occasional joke from Cole or a sarcastic comment from Baird. I used most of my time to observe the area around me, my eyes scanning over abandoned cars or piles of rubble. I still hadn't gotten the hang of being as relaxed as the others. Maybe I never would.

When we reached our next target, the simple look of the building had my nerves stirring a bit. It was old, crumbly and unstable looking. I took a glance at Marcus to judge his reaction. It would tell me if the building was safe to enter or not. And, if he had the slightest suspicion that the structure _would_ fall down around us, he would never make us going inside. So I had no reason to be nervous. That's what I kept telling myself.

Marcus glanced up, gave the building a speedy overlook and started walking forward. _Alrighty then._

The entrance of the building used to be two large glass doors that probably slid open automatically. Now it was a metal frame with broken glass scattered at its base. We all stepped in cautiously, the glass crunching under our boots.

"Man, this place is huge," my dad said, gazing around the aged plaza around us. "Where should we start, Marcus?"

Marcus kicked a loose rock towards the elevator doors. "In the basement and make our way up."

I was afraid he'd say that. My shoulders fell a tiny bit and the grip on my Lancer tightened.

"What's wrong, _Feral_?" Baird sneered at me. "Not afraid of the dark, are you?"

"Shut up, Baird," I snapped.

"You two fight like siblings," Cole chuckled. "On the outside you hate each other. But on the inside, there ain't nothing but love!"

Exasperated, I ignored each of them and walked over to the elevator. The footsteps of the others quickly followed behind. "What do you think the chances of this old thing working are?" Bernie asked, gesturing towards the elevator controls as we all crowded around.

My dad reached out and pressed the button on the control panel. Nothing happened. "Zero," he said, sighing. "Can't catch a break."

"To the stairs," I muttered unenthusiastically.

Then there was a crackling of static in my ear from my radio, followed by the voice of a woman. _"Control to Delta, are you receiving?" _It was the Lieutenant. I'd never met her before, but everyone knew her voice.

Marcus's hand went straight to his ear. "Control, this is Delta, over."

"I've got a visual on your location. Vista Squad has already been deployed into the building today, but...I lost contact with them almost an hour ago." Vista Squad? I _knew _Vista Squad. Brent, Kent, Morgan and Jackson. My squad had just trained with them yesterday. I started to get an anxious tug in my chest.

"So _that's_why we were sent out here so quick..." Baird shouldered his Lancer and put a hand on his hip.

Marcus looked serious now. "They never left the building?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

_"Afraid not, Marcus. I'll keep trying to reach them, but it doesn't look good."_

"We'll keep an eye out, too. Keep us posted, Anya. Delta out."

Marcus's hand dropped from his ear and he gave an uneasy noise in the back if his throat. Humans or not, we weren't alone in this building.

"Well," Marcus sighed, slapping a full clip into his Lancer and turning off the safety. "Let's get down stairs."

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><p>The basement was something straight out of a horror movie. Pitch black, dripping pipes, strange and unexplainable sounds. Plus to top it all off, it had the worse smell <em>ever<em>. The first word that popped into my mind when the stench hit my nose was "death." Something down here was decaying. Something down here was dead.

"Baby, I can't see _anything_ down here," Cole commented from somewhere to my left. "Why don't they give us flashlights?"

"Excellent question," I hissed into the darkness. "Maybe they just assume that being a member of the COG gives you special powers. Like night vision."

"Wonder if there's a way to turn the power on," Bernie said. "Do you think control could help us out, Marcus?"

"Guess we'll see. Control, this is Delta." I assumed his finger was pressed to his ear. "It's pitch black down here. Anyway you can get the power back on from where you are?"

"_I'm on it, Marcus. In the mean time keep a look out for Vista Squad. You're getting close to where they were when we lost contact."_

"Fantastic. Delta out."

My dad heaved a sigh. He was standing much closer to me than I thought. "So what do we do while we wait? Wonder around aimlessly?" Now that I knew where he was, I had to resist the childish urge to inch towards him. I was a soldier, but I don't think _anybody_ like walking around in the dark.

"Let's just keep moving forward," Marcus answered. "No point in standing around."

"Man if we get attacked, it's every man for himself." Baird was ahead of me, sounding panicky and stressed.

"What's the matter, Baird?" I asked sarcastically. "Afraid of the dark?" I heard Bernie chuckle, but Marcus wasn't amused. "Do not shoot until you have a clear visual," he commanded. "If anyone gets taken out because of friendly fire, I'll have their ass."

For whatever it was worth, I nodded my head. Then I mentally prayed that nothing attacked us in the dark.

We continued on through the blackness for another ten minutes, listening to the moans of the old building and our own breathing. Marcus checked in with control once more, asking about the power. The Lieutenant said only a little bit longer. At one point my dad walked up to my left and gave me a reassuring nudge with his elbow. I imagined how his smirk would look and nudged him back.

A loud clang, like metal on metal suddenly rang out, shaking my frame and making me yelp embarrassingly loud. Our walking came to an immediate halt, and I tried to listen for anymore movement over the sound of my heart thrumming in my ears.

"Oh shit..." Baird muttered, and I heard him ready his gun.

"Keep moving," Marcus told us calmly. Hesitantly, we forced ourselves to trudge forward again at a much slower, more cautious pace.

"What's that sound?" my dad whispered after a moment. I automatically strained my ears even more while I also simultaneously tried to slow my heartbeat.

"What sound?" Cole asked, his normal confidence drained from his voice. I'd never heard him sound nervous before, and it was unsettling. If Cole wasn't feeling right about something, then damn it, _something_wasn't right.

And then I could hear it: the heavy thumping of footsteps somewhere far off in the distance. It was faint, but it was there, steadily growing louder as they came closer and closer. The only question was who they belonged to.

"Anya…" Marcus spoke anxiously into the radio. "_Lights?_"

"_I'm trying, Marcus, almost there. Hold out for a minute longer."_

"Uh, I don't think we have a minute." My voice was inching into the higher octaves. Panic was setting in, and I did my best to get a hold of myself.

But now the footsteps were being following by scratches and screeches, and for once I was thankful for the darkness. At least the others couldn't see how bad I was shaking.

My dad walked up from behind me and put a steadying hand on my shoulder. "What the fuck _is that_?" he asked.

Baird officially ruined my day when he whispered "Wretches."

My fingers trembled as I dug in one of my side pockets for an ammo clip. I'd faced Wretches only once before, and the memory had me quivering. They were wild, unpredictable, blood thirsty creatures that always went for your throat. They didn't duck and cover when you aimed a weapon at them. They just threw out here claws, threw back their heads and charged you on all fours like some sort of rabid dog. But Wretches were so much worse than any sort of animal found in society or the wild. Not only had I seen Wretches, I'd seen what they did to people. It wasn't pretty.

"We can't fight Wretches in the dark, Marcus!" Bernie had fallen to the back of the group. "We need light!"

"Hello? Hey!" That was a man's voice, one that didn't belong to anyone in our group. It echoed off the walls, growing closer like the footsteps and the screeches. "Hey! Is anyone here?"

"Vista Squad?" I shouted.

"Or whatever's left of them," Marcus said. "This is Delta Squad!" he announced into the darkness. "When you approach, do not fire! I repeat, this is Delta Squad! Do not open fire!"

"Run!" another voice ordered, a second member of Vista Squad.

I squinted against the black. "What?"

"_RUN_!"

Two men suddenly blazed past us, one of them clipping me in the shoulder. The impact almost had me on the floor, but I stayed frozen to my spot as the screeches of Wretches filled my ears.

It was so _loud_. There must have been hundreds of them. Their numbers have been building up for months in the pit of this building.

And I couldn't see shit.

A member of Delta grabbed my arm a yanked me backwards. I didn't know who, but I complied with them and turned around to take off. Sprinting through pitch black was one of the most unsettling things I'd ever done. I relied on my hearing as I tried to follow the stomping of boots ahead of me, and kept my right hand on the wall as guidance. I really hoped no one in front of me stopped.

"Anya!" Marcus screamed into the radio. "We need power _now_!" The Wretches hissed, getting closer. I swear they were at my heels.

_"Just hold on, Marcus!"_ The Lieutenant sounded almost as panicked as I felt. _"One more second!"_

I took my hand from the wall and gripped my Lancer. We didn't _have_another second.

_"Almost...Almost…There! The power should be on!"_

I skidded to a halt, spun around with my chainsaw raised, and the lights came on just in time to give me a quick glance at a Wretch as it leaped into the air and lunged for my throat.

It was dumb luck when my reflexes snapped me to the right. But instead of tearing into my throat, the Wretch's teeth clamped down on my left shoulder, and I toppled to the ground with a cry. My armor helped a little, but that fucking monster bit just low enough to get a good mouthful of flesh, trying to tear at my skin like I was food.

Fear took root in my mind and all thinking processes were eliminated. The only things that existed were the beast on top of me and the searing, fiery pain in my arm. Where did my Lancer go? My right arm flailed aimlessly as I felt around for it, my fingers gripping at nothing but slick concrete.

Someone above me ripped the Wretch off of me, and the creature took skin with it. Another grasped my right arm and hauled me to my feet. The absolute chaos of the situation hit me like a slap in the face as the pain from my bite clawed its way down to my fingertips. I fell against the person who had a hold of me, my head whirling.

Baird turned me and made me face him. His hand came up to grab my chin and he got real close, glaring furiously at me. "Nuh uh!" he barked. "Don't you freak out now, rooky!" Baird shoved a Lancer against my chest, one I assumed to be mind, and spun me around the face down the damp, concrete corridor we'd been blindly walking through for the past half hour. Sprinting their ugly way towards us were five or six more Wretches. A couple feet away from me there was a dead one, its skull crushed into a pile of blood and mush.

I fired off a burst of ammo, killing two of the creatures. One leapt past me, and another came right for me. Before I even registered the decision in my brain, my chainsaw was tearing through the Wretch's body mid-jump. It hissed, screeched, then died at my feet.

First there were six, then there were ten, and then there were twenty. We all just backed up and huddled together, spraying out bullets and mowing down line after line of monsters. Any Wretch that got through was given a swift boot to the teeth and a heavy stomp to the side of the head. After about a minute, the pain in my arm wasn't even relevant anymore.

The dead Wretches started piling up around our boots and it wasn't long until we had to start walking backwards. The little bastards just kept _coming_. How many of them could really be cooped up in the basement of this building?

Marcus stepped forward to the front of the group and swapped his Lancer out for the shotgun on his back. "Fall back and get up stairs!" he ordered, firing into the mob of creatures, taking out two at a time. I hesitated, but my dad ran up and stood at Marcus's side to help him out, so I followed orders and took off. Baird, Cole and Bernie ran too, leading the way as I followed right behind them.

The lights that flickered above reminded me of hospitals. They were poor help considering that most of them didn't even turn on when the Lieutenant gave us power. But anything was better than running through the dark again.

When we reached the end of the long corridor, we took a hard left and my boots slipped over the slick surface beneath them. I almost fell straight on my face, but managed to stay upright. The door that led to the stairs was straight ahead now. Cole got there first and nearly knocked the thing off its hinges when he kicked it open. Bernie ran past him and up the stairs, but when I approached the door I suddenly stopped and looked behind me. My dad and Marcus were still back there.

"Go, kid!" Baird shoved me through the door. "We've got it! You and Bernie make sure there isn't anything waiting for us up there." Reluctantly, I sprinted up the flight of stairs, leaving Baird and Cole behind.

At the top there was another door, already open. I ran through it, past the elevators and found Bernie talking to two other male soldiers in a hurried fashion. Behind them, over near the building entrance were the bodies of five Locusts. _What the hell?_ The calmness of the room was weird and strange and sudden. My mind was still a mile back, down stairs in the darkness.

These patrol shifts would be the death of me.

And then each of the male soldiers peered around Bernie at the same time, giving me the same exact expression of surprise. "Melanie Santiago?" they chorused together. I let in a sharp intake of breath.

Brent and Kent Mitchell. A duo also known simply as the Mitchell Twins. Same birthdays, same looks, same squad, same personality. They weren't even acknowledged as individual people in my mind because they were constantly together. And unlike the other half of their squad, they came back alive.

"Shit, _shit_!"

I whirled back around to watch as Baird, Cole, my dad and Marcus all stumble through the stairway door and slam it behind them. The scene was almost as comical as an old scripted television show. "_Those_ men have saved humanity before?" Bernie asked, and I threw back my head in laughter. Adrenaline rushes made you do odd things, especially when they died off.

"Damn, baby!" Cole's face looked happy, tired and relieved all at once. "Some crazy shit went down in that basement. We should just torch the place instead of inspect it."

Marcus wiped a hand over his face. "I never want to see a Wretch again," he mumbled. Baird just walked by him, shaking his head silently.

My dad's eyes were fixed on me. He looked normal at first, and a little exhausted. But then his gaze lowered to my left arm, and his calm persona went out the window.

My _arm_. I'd completely forgotten about it. But now that I'd brought my attention back to it, the pain began to flare again. The wound looked jagged and awful. I couldn't even tell exactly where the Wretch's teeth had been because everything was a torn mess. It still bled quite a bit, and I had only just started to notice the crimson liquid dripping down my fingertips. I would need stitches. Which meant a trip to the hospital. Which meant a visit with Dr. Hayman. _Damn it_.

My dad appeared in front of me and took my hand in his, extending my arm to get a better look at the wound. I winced a little, but it was nothing too serious. It looked worse than it actually was. I just had to make sure my dad knew that.

"It's fine," I told him, watching his anxious expression. "I just need to wrap it up."

His eyebrows stayed furrowed. "It got you good, babe." He brought his free hand up to my cheek. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, because of _me_," Baird said, sounding snide. "You attract all the bad luck, don't you?"

I rolled my eyes, holding back a sarcastic response. He was right, no matter how much I hated him for it.

"Shut up and look at this," my dad said, moving over so Baird could get a good view of my arm. He studied it, looking bored and unfazed. To add to my embarrassment, everyone else crowded around, gawking at my bite like it was on display.

"Alright Reckless," Baird muttered, digging into one of his pants pockets. "Hold your arm out." He pulled out a simple roll of gauze, white and clean looking. "As soon as we get back, sterilize this or it'll get infected. Got it?" I nodded obediently and he started wrapping the gauze around the wound. He made it a bit tighter than I would have liked, but I didn't complain.

When he was finished, I tried to make light of the whole situation. "Awesome, my first battle scar." I flashed the bloody bandaging at Brent and Kent, looking proud.

"Sweet," Brent said. "Cool," Kent followed.

"Okay, who the hell are you guys?" Baird asked, giving the twins an odd and untrusting look.

Each of them reached under their armor and presented their COG tags. "That's Kent Mitchell," Brent said, pointing at his brother.

"Yeah," Kent replied. "And that's Brent Mitchell."

I couldn't help but smirk at the two. It was scary how they acted sometimes, always together, always in tune. More than once I had mistaken one for the other; the only thing that really pulls them apart is the sound of their voices. But when it came to looks? Each had light brown eyes, short, black hair and tanned skin. Their noses were the same, their hair cut was the same, the way they _stood_ was the same. Like I said, it was scary.

"I've heard of you two," Bernie told them. "The Mitchell twins if I'm correct?"

"You hear that, Brent? We're famous."

"_I'm_ famous. You're just kind of here. Like a side kick."

Marcus growled, getting impatient. "Alright, enough." He put on his sergeant face and held his finger to his ear. "Control, this is Delta. We've recovered Brent Mitchell and Kent Mitchell."

"_That's great, Marcus. Any sighting of Morgan Welsh and Jackson Michaels?"_

Marcus gave a meaningful glance at Brent and Kent. Each of their faces fell slightly, and then they both held up a set of COG tags that didn't belong to them.

"Negative, Anya. K-I-A."

The Lieutenant sighed into the radio. _"Copy that. I suggest that for today you head back. We'll mark the building as active and send multiple squads out in the morning."_

"Wilco. Delta out." Marcus dropped his hand and gave us all a tired look. "Brent, Kent, welcome to Delta. Now let's get the fuck out of here." Everybody silently nodded their heads in relief and agreement. Then we all turned to trudge towards the entrance of the building.

I may have taken three or four steps when the ground beneath my feet gave a loud, intense _boom_. Like someone dropped something heavy. Really, really heavy. We all stopped, more exasperated than worried.

"What _now_?" Cole asked, throwing his hands over his head. I felt like whining a bit myself.

"I don't know, but it can't be good." My dad heaved a heavy sigh and closed his eyes.

"No shit, it can't be good," Baird grumbled. "When is it _ever_ good?"

The ground gave a big shake again, and my balanced wavered a bit. "Um…" My eyes darted around the room, scanning the walls. "Is it safe to be in here?"

"Probably not," Bernie deadpanned.

"Then let's not hang around long enough to find out," Marcus said, making his way towards the exit. If we could just get the hell out of that forsaken building, then surely we would be okay.

There was a deafening crash behind us, and reflex spun us all around at once. _Fuck my life_. The door that had led down to the stairs was flung off its hinges, now just crinkled metal on the ground. Something had a made a new doorway for itself; it wasn't the nice, rectangular door frame anymore.

A cloud of dirt and debris hung in the air, slowly falling to the ground. As it settled, we all stood stock still, hearts racing, eyes wide and fixed on the door.

As the gray cloud dissipated, a tall, monstrous looking thing appeared, obviously belonging to the Locust family. It stood seven or eight feet tall, built with nothing but bulging muscle. It was like some sort of mutated grub on steroids. _Lots_ of steroids. This thing probably could have thrown a 'Dill at us if there were one nearby. My mouth literally dropped open.

"The _fuck_ is that?" I squeaked, too scared to force out normal speech.

Baird's hand suddenly slapped over my mouth. "It's a tall glass of _shut the fuck up_," he hissed.

I gave him a furious glare, wanting so badly to bite him. "_What_?" I mumbled against his hand.

Marcus narrowed his eyes dangerously at both of us as he took a slow and uneasy step backwards. Bernie and my dad did the same, their wide eyes still locked on the massive creature. Then Marcus brought his hand up to his ear, contacting control again.

"Anya," he whispered, almost too low for me to hear. "Berserker."

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><p><strong>Oh snap. I've never been all that great at cliff hangers, but hopefully this one is good…if a cliffhanger <strong>_**can**_** be good. **

**I'm being bad right now. It's very late and I have an English paper due tomorrow. That isn't finished. But instead I decided to sit down and finish this thing. And now I shall post it for all to see. **

**Leave a review? Please?...please? They motivate me like no other :D thanks for reading! **


	7. Chapter 7

**School is a bitch. So is senioritis. **

**There isn't anything I could possibly say that could excuse me for my unbelievable slowness. I'm not even going to try. All I can hope for is that people still care, and that the Easter holiday has put those people in a good enough mood to continue reading. **

**P.S. A special thank you to writtenrhythm for always telling me about my evil little errors I always seem to miss. The last chapter would have remained forever incorrect without her :) **

**P.P.S. School's getting rough now that softball season is here (the thing my life revolves around.) I swear I'll never stop updating this, and I won't say that all updates will take this long. But I don't think they'll come as fast as I want them to. Please stick with me! It's about time I start to wrap this baby up!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Seven: The Mitchell Twins (Part Two)<strong>

Berserker? Did I hear him correctly? A _Berserker_? The monstrous creature I'd heard so many stories about? That same thing I've heard grown men talk about with fear in their eyes? Grown COG men? Didn't these things kill you with a simple swing of their arm? Or by _stepping_ on you? I mean _geez_! What did Delta ever do to deserve _this_? Ever since I started to tag along with them, we were literally followed by _hell_. _All _the time. Couldn't they just for once in their crazy, fucked up, unfair version of a life CATCH A _BREAK?_

Maybe I should start thinking before saying yes to my dad when he innocently asks me to "tag along."

But that was another problem. I'd save that bridge for a rainy day.

Slowly, very slowly, my dad slid in front of me as silently as he could. So it was true then; Berserkers couldn't see. They relied only on their hearing. But then once they picked up even the tiniest scuffle of your boot, they roared and charged at you like a raging freight train.

Fear struck my heart and I reached out to stop him. But he ignored my desperate tugs at his wrist, squaring his shoulders, staying put between me and the monster.

We couldn't just sneak out the back door with this one. Leaving a basement filled with Wretches for the next morning was acceptable. Leaving an angry Berserker was not.

The Lieutenant whispered as softly as she could into the radio. _"You can't avoid it?"_

"Don't think that's an option," Marcus said. "We need the Hammer."

The Hammer? As in the _Hammer of Dawn_? Holy hell, we were in for it big this time, weren't we? _"Marcus, the fastest I can get a Raven with the Hammer of Dawn to you is five, ten minutes tops. Can you keep it at bay until then?"_

"We can sure as hell try," Marcus murmured, his eyes fixed on the beast. It hadn't noticed us yet, stomping around on the opposite side of the plaza. The thing was absolutely terrifying. Fuck, it didn't need to see if it just pulverized anything it walked over.

There was a slight tap on my shoulder and I turned, looking at Brent and Kent. Each of them shrugged their shoulders with their hands raised, as if to say "What now?" I shook my head at them and shrugged my shoulders as well. Hell, I didn't know and I most certainly wasn't going to ask.

"If we just stay over here out of its way, then we should be fine," whispered Bernie. "But if it decides to check out this side of the building too, then we're fucked."

"Well then shouldn't we make a plan for that or somethin'?" Cole asked. "Shit, I've never had to _wait_ for a Hammer before."

"We can't just shoot it?" Brent murmured.

All of Delta turned their eyes on him, including Bernie. "_No_," they all hissed in unison, terrified of the thought.

"Maybe we should wait outside," I suggested. "It's gotta be safer than this." It sounded like an easy plan to my ears, but all of the experienced ones glanced down at their boots and the shattered glass beneath them. I remembered the _crunch_ we'd made while entering the building.

"What do you think, Marcus?" my dad asked, eyeing the beast across the room. It was just pacing now, grunting and breathing at nothing. Marcus watched too, and I could almost see the gears turn in his head as he tried to make a decision that wouldn't kill us all.

"Alright," he sighed. "Let's move. _Quietly_."

We all nodded, and turned around to start walking. I tried to make my steps as light as air, moving all my weight onto each foot as gently as possible. The glass still _crunched_ slightly, making me flinch with each step. It seemed like it took us forever to reach the frame of the entrance, but we did, and I cautiously stepped over it and onto the concrete of the sidewalk outside.

To my left, there was rolling _clink_ as something metal skipped across the floor. I flinched as though the innocent sound was the loudest thing I'd ever heard, and glanced over to find Kent giving a terrified look at his boots. He had accidentally kicked a screw across the ground.

And then behind us, there was a roar, and Kent brought his hand up to his face. "Oops," he muttered. We all glanced over our shoulder to watch as the Berserker lowered into a crouch and then charge at us from the other side of the plaza.

"_Scatter!_" Marcus shouted, and we all took off into the street in different directions.

I felt the ground quake as the Berserker charged after us, but I was too scared to look behind me. Who was it targeting? Me? Where the fuck did one go when running from these bastards? There was a rumbling crash as the monster trampled a car somewhere to my left, and I cringed and covered my head as I ran.

When the screech of crinkling metal ceased, I skidded to a halt and whirled around, squaring my shoulders towards the beast. It was bent over the remnants of the car, snarling and listening for its next victim.

"_Delta, this is KR Unit Twelve. We're on our way to your position, over!"_ Oh Goddamn it.

The man on the radio could have screamed while waving a red flag and gotten the same reaction from us. There were a couple of curses in my ear piece, and an extremely sharp "Shut the fuck up!" from Marcus. But it was too late now, and guess who was closest? The Berserker roared, turned and charged straight at me.

My muscles screamed as I waited for the right moment. I could see the grime in the monster's teeth before I quickly launched myself to the right, sloppily rolling across the concrete and scraping my elbows. Then I started scrambling like an animal, forcing my legs to keep going as I jumped back up and ran down the opposite direction of the street towards the others.

As I distanced myself from the Berserker, I lightened my footsteps from a panicky stomp to a cautious jog. Baird glared daggers at me, but Cole welcomed me with a quick pat on the shoulder. I took a moment to glance around. Kent still stood near the entrance of the building, muscles tensed like he may never move again. Brent stood directly in front of him on the other side of the street. My dad and Marcus were side by side, a few feet behind, their eyes never leaving the Berserker as it thrashed and screeched down the road.

It wouldn't be long for the beast to come back towards us for more so I turned around and gave Marcus a questioning glance. "KR-12, how much longer?" he murmured into the radio.

"_Four minutes, Sergeant Fenix. Think you can last until then?"_

"Do we really have a choice?" Marcus mumbled, more to himself than the man on the radio.

The Berserker's rampage had crept closer to us and it backhanded a parking meter that landed a bit too close to me for comfort. I gave the crinkled piece of metal a terrified glance and then brought my eyes back to the beast. _Could_ we last until the Raven reached us?

With Delta backing you up it was hard to think _too_ negative, so I easily batted my worried thoughts into the back of my mind. It was sort of like a game. A deadly combination of hide and seek, and dodge ball. All I had to do was keep quiet and avoid the raging monster. How hard could it be?

"_Hostiles_," something behind me hissed, nearly too low and rough for me to understand. The menace behind the statement rose the hair on the back of my neck, and I forced myself to take my eyes off of the Berserker and turn around. About fifty yards down the street stood a group of Drones, maybe six or seven of them, and they were coming for us with their guns raised. Marcus had spotted them as well, and he grunted out a low and simple "Well…fuck."

I, on the other hand, was not able to keep myself as calm as he did. As loud as I dared, I let out a hiss of my own, stringing together as many cuss words as I could think of in a long sequence of _fucking annoyance_. Despite the situation, I still received a very disapproving glance from my father.

The Berserker threw its head back and roared, ready to charge again. It braced its weight back on its heels and then sprinted forward, blazing past us all without a bit of hesitation. Where the hell was it going?

The beast swung its arms wildly, striking one of its own and hurling it through the concrete wall of another building. The damn thing took out a Locust! The rest of the Drones roared and hissed at the monster in a scolding way, like a mother would do to a child who couldn't get a hold of his temper. Then one of them pointed a gun at us as angrily and opened fire.

"Get down!" my dad cried, and we were all behind something in an instant. Brent and Kent had moved up closer to us, but continued to stay near the back as they nervously loaded their guns.

"Do we shoot?" Kent asked, not even bothering to whisper.

"Oh yeah, sure. Bring the damn thing right towards us." Baird scowled at him and rolled his eyes.

Ammo pelted off the upside down car Cole and I had our backs braced against. "Well then what's the plan, baby?" Cole asked.

"_Two minutes, Delta. We are closing in on your location."_

Marcus narrowed his eyes down the street at the approaching Drones. I could see the muscles in his neck move as he grinded his teeth together. "Alright," he sighed, rolling his shoulders back. "Let's do this."

I immediately turned and opened fire, spraying more than actually aiming. They came at us in some sort of formation, walking in a straight line. Why not take them all out at once? The others opened fire too, and I knew it wouldn't take long for us to drop them all.

The Berserker screeched and gripped its head with both hands. It suddenly charged again, but instead of coming towards us it simply turned and smashed into another building that lined the sidewalk. The damn thing must have been confused by the gunfire. But the beast's sudden disappearance made me unexpectedly nervous. Now I couldn't see the monster, and I didn't know where it was.

But it was quickly forgotten when another round of Drones emerged, climbing out of an E-Hole I had yet to spot. It was located farther down the street, and I doubted I could get a Frag in it from my current position. I glanced over at Cole, who gave me a nod in response and charged forward from his spot behind his barrier.

I kept as close as possible to him as I could, providing cover fire while he sprinted and danced in between slabs of concrete and crushed cars. I had a moment of astonishment as I watched him move forward with extreme courage and confidence, something I didn't think I'd ever be able to achieve. Cole suddenly stopped his advances and grasped a grenade at his belt. "Back in your hole, bitches!" he cried, then he launched the grenade into the E-Hole, and we watched it explode and make the opening cave in on itself.

"Nice arm, Cole," Marcus commended through the radio. The remaining grubs gave dissatisfied turns of their heads and began to fall back.

"These things are insane," Brent commented in a detached voice. I turned around and put my back into a corner created by a concrete building next to me and the sand bags I was currently crouched behind. Brent and Kent were jogging over, side by side with their Lancers cradled to their chests.

Bernie took out the last two Locust and stood from her cover. "Damn right they are," she said, rolling her shoulders back and cracking her neck. "Ah. Think I pulled something."

"You should retire, Granny," Baird called from a few feet away. "Then maybe we wouldn't have to deal with you slowing us down all the time."

Bernie braced her hands at her hips and leaned backwards with a groan. "Careful, Baird. You almost sounded like you cared for a moment."

"Forgive me," he snidely replied.

"Anyone know the position of the Berserker?" Marcus asked, cautiously lowering his gun and walking over with my dad. "KR-Twelve is inbound." To answer him, the thumping sound of chopper blades slicing through the air filled my ears and I turned my eyes skyward.

"_Delta, this is KR-Twelve. Where the hell do you expect us to land?"_ The Raven hovered and circled about us. _"And _where _is the Berserker? I know you didn't take care of it by your-"_

The Berserker suddenly burst through the concrete wall to my left with a deafening crash, creating a storm of rock and debris. I screamed and covered my face with my arms. Its roar pierced the air and its booming footsteps shook my frame. Peering around my arms, I could only catch a glimpse at the monster before it charged towards Kent and backhanded him from Brent's side. I wildly scrambled to my feet and gasped in horror as Kent skidded across the street, landing with a sickening _thud_.

"Brent!" I screeched, trying to get the other shocked and frozen brother's attention. "Brent _MOVE!_" After an entire second, he did, lurching forward in the wrong direction as he desperately stumbled towards Kent's still body.

"No, damn it!" I brought up my Lancer and fired off a couple rounds into the Berserker's back to stop it from taking out Brent as well. The ammunition simply pelted off the monster's skin, but I got its attention. It turned away from Brent and ran another direction, furiously confused.

Marcus's demanding voice lit up the radio in my ear. "KR, get the Hammer down here _now!_" he ordered. "Control, this is Delta! Is the Hammer online?"

"_The Hammer of Dawn is now operational. You have a very limited window, Marcus. Make sure you go as quickly as possible."_

Before I could go to Brent's side, my dad appeared to my left and swept me backwards. "Stay back," he ordered, and I almost screamed at him. Now wasn't the time to cower behind daddy's legs. Kent was down, and his brother needed help.

Brent crouched over his twin's body and pressed his ear to Kent's chest. Adrenaline hammered through my system and I could taste it. My mind couldn't even keep up with my instincts. I had the sudden urge to fall to the ground and close my eyes; to shut out everything around me. "Just drop the fucking thing!" I heard Baird scream from behind, and I turned to find him waving his arms at the Raven that circled above.

"KR!" Marcus shouted with his finger to his ear. "Get as low as you can and lower the Hammer! We're running out of time! And once you do, prepare for medevac!" The Raven circled once more before it steadied and began to lower. I watched it for a moment, and then I shifted my eyes to Cole, Bernie and Baird as they kept the Berserker distracted. My dad was running over to the twins, and Marcus was standing under the Raven, squinting up against the wind of its thumping blades as is crept towards the ground.

I then realized that I wasn't doing anything.

My hand gripped a pocket on my right leg and I sprinted after my father. Before I reached him and Brent, I was already digging out my scarce pack of medical supplies. I roughly fell to my knees next to Brent with my med kit in hand, fingers shaking uncontrollably. "What can I do?" I heard myself saying.

My father's hands, steady and sure, moved up the Kent's neck and his fingers pressed down for a pulse. I just stared at his hands and nothing else, observing the roughness, the calluses and the dirt under his fingernails. I was zoning out, and I couldn't get a hold of myself.

"Melanie," my dad said. I just continued to gaze at his hands. They were now braced against his knees. "Melanie. _Melanie_."

I brought my eyes up, but let them land on Brent's ashen face before I shifted them to my dad. "Melanie, he doesn't have a pulse." I allowed my gaze to skim over Kent's body for a single moment, making me wish I hadn't. Blood pooled in his hair, draining from each of his ears. His hair took on a brilliant crimson color from an awful chunk of scalp missing on the right side of his head. Kent's mouth was opened wide, and his lifeless eyes gazed upwards at nothing. My dad gave an empathetic look at the other twin. "Sorry Brent," he said, trying to express as much compassion as he could in the pair of words.

Sorry? That was it? Just _sorry_? There wasn't anything else we could do? Get the Raven on the ground, call medical over and revive him? My fingers continued to rip open a package of gauze until my father reached out and stopped me. I squeezed the package tightly in a fist, my hand shaking. "Damn it," I whispered. Kent had just joined the endless list of casualties.

On autopilot, I slowly got to my feet, and my father did as well. Brent stayed, kneeling next to his dead brother, his eyes locked on a spot of concrete next to my boot. My body was numb. Anything and everything ceased to make an impression in my mind. For an embarrassing, private second I secretly wished that Justin was with me.

My father extended his hand towards Brent, and I found myself gazing at his weathered fingers again. "Come on," he urged, nodding his head. "Fight for him. Don't quit now."

Brent blinked his eyes, still motionless in his crouch. But then a sudden inhale of breath shook his frame, and he brought his brown eyes up to mine, watery and desperate.

What did I say to him? I didn't even know how to get a handle on myself. But Delta was still fighting. _We _were still fighting. It was a damn war, and it was time to grow up. My right arm came out, my hand shaking only slightly. I looked Brent Mitchell in the eye, challenging him, urging him to stand. After another moment, he reached up with his own hand and I grasped it, tugging him to his feet.

"You ready?" I asked, giving him a level gaze. Brent nodded wordlessly, readying his gun at his chest. I looked over at my father and nodded once. "Let's go."

We all switched into battle mode again, going into low sprints as we ran towards the Berserker and the others. The monster charged towards Bernie and Cole, and each of them dove in opposite directions, leaving the Berserker a clear path in the middle. Baird kicked a rock at it, loudly scuffing his boot. "Come on!" he shouted, firing off a few rounds at the beast's back. "Come at me, you bitch!" The Berserker roared furiously at the sky, momentarily stopping its disoriented war path.

"Stand clear, Delta!" Marcus came running over with the Hammer in his hands, and the Raven climbed back towards the clouds behind him. I gave a quick, meaningful glance at the deadly weapon in his arms and felt my heart rate speed. I'd never seen how the Hammer of Dawn operated before.

My dad appeared at my side and tugged at my right arm. "Stand back," he murmured in a low voice. I guess we were back to whispering, not that it mattered. The Berserker was too busy screeching to even bother listening to us. The others began moving backwards as well, and then there was a _beep, beep, beep_ as Marcus carefully aimed the Hammer at the beast.

And then suddenly, the sky was ablaze. The Hammer of Dawn fired, sending down an explosive, fiery beam straight down at the Berserker, scorching its skin and making the ground quake. Cracks scattered across the surface of the rock at our feet. I could feel the heat radiating from the energy beam on my face, stinging the tip of my nose. During my short, war-filled life I'd never witnessed something capable of such destruction.

Then as suddenly as the destructive beam appeared, it dissipated, leaving us back under the influence of only the sun, and the Berserker's thick skin scorched and charred.

"Fire!" Marcus ordered, startling me.

"What?" I foolishly asked.

"_Fire_!"

Lancer ammunition began flying past my ears, and I reflexively opened fire with the others. But instead of bouncing off, the bullets sunk into the Berserker's glowing, red-hot skin. I was frustrated and amazed at the same time. The monster wasn't down, but it actually had a weakness. It didn't stand a chance all lit up like a melting candle. I emptied a clip and a half on its rough hide before Marcus cried out "Stop!"

And then the process started over. The Berserker threw its ugly head back, Marcus aimed the Hammer, and then the blazing beam was back, rigorously raining down on the beast's back again. Then the beam disappeared, the order was given, and we were firing again. It took a couple of more rounds and the rest of my ammo, but after an eternity of gunfire the Berserker finally crumpled to the ground, defeated.

There was a moment where we all just stared at the monster's motionless body, our breathing labored and our shoulders hunched over.

Brent moved first. He dropped his Lancer to the ground and ran back over to the body of his dead brother. My dad slowly came to stand at my side, and Baird, Cole and Bernie grouped together before joining us. I could hear Marcus somewhere behind me, murmuring into his radio about finding a good spot to land and _casevac_.

"_Shit_," I whispered, watching Brent kneel over his twin. "Shit, shit, _shit_." Fighting back tears, I hesitantly jogged over to Brent, motioning for my dad to stay back and wait. "Brent?" I said quietly when I reached him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Brent, are you okay?" As I stood directly behind him, I thought about how stupid my question was. But what else was I supposed to say? Doing my best to keep my eyes up and away from Kent's body, I crouched down next to Brent and scanned his features. Expecting anguish and tears, I was shocked to find that his face was absolutely blank. Lips pressed in a thin line, and eyes unmoving, locked on something very far away that didn't exist.

My fingers gripped his shoulder tighter and I gave him a slight tug. "Brent," I tried again, shaking his stiff figure. "Brent?" He wouldn't even look at me. But his shoulders suddenly quivered as he gave a shaky breath, and I took it as an acceptable response. Then keeping my hand on his shoulder, I stood slowly and turned around to glance at my dad. He stood about fifty yards down the street, too far for me to make out his expression. Even further down the street the Raven had found a spot to land a couple blocks away. I saw my father put a hand to his ear.

"Are you going to stay there and wait for casevac?" he asked, his somber voice imbedded with radio static. I nodded and murmured "Yeah," in return. He stood there for another moment before turning on his heel to jog and catch up with the others. And then as two soldiers I didn't know leapt out of the Raven with a stretcher in between them, I felt my throat tighten.

Brent stood up and silently moved to my side. I looked up at him, but he kept his gaze forward, watching the two soldiers run over with a scrawny stretchers covered with a gray blanket. Instead of asking another dumb question like "Are you okay?" again, I stayed silent and grasped Brent's gloved hand in mine. Then we took a step back and watched as Kent's lifeless body was retrieved.

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><p>The first person I found when we returned was Justin. Fighting back thoughts of pride or embarrassment, I pushed him through his barrack's doorway, closed it behind me and buried my face in his chest. I'd already showered and changed, now comfortably clothed in a t-shirt and sweats. Hayman stitched up the bite on my arm-nearly forgotten about until my father urged me to medical as soon as we stepped off the Raven-redressed it and sent me on my way. Other than that, I only had a few cuts and bruises from being clumsy.<p>

My dad and the rest of Delta went back to their apartment, Bernie following behind. They'd probably be there for the rest of the night. I reassured my father that I was fine and that I just wanted to sleep when he asked me to go. I didn't see where Brent had gone.

Shocked and confused, Justin hesitantly wrapped his arms around my shoulders. "Melanie, what's wrong?" he asked, getting straight to the point. I squeezed my eyes shut and gripped his thin shirt in my fist. I wished he just _knew_. I wished I didn't have to go over everything in my mind again just to tell him the story. I just didn't want to think about it. All I wanted to do was stand here with Justin and forget it all.

He gripped my shoulders and softly pushed me back. Then he took my hand in his, and extended my arm out to examine it. "What happened?" he asked, more urgency in his voice this time.

"Wretches," I simply muttered, my eyes falling to the floor.

"_Wretches_?" Justin put a finger under my chin and tilted my head up. "Are you serious?" I nodded, still not looking at him.

Justin pulled me over to his bed and made me sit down on the thin mattress. I loosely folded my hands in my lap and watched as he turned from me and began digging in a plastic bag tucked away in the bottom drawer of his tiny dresser. After a minute he pulled out two palm-sized, cloth bags. A smirk turned up the corners of my lips. "You don't have to break out the tea," I told him, a bit sarcastic. "No point in wasting it."

Tea, like coffee, was another thing no longer readily available like it used to be. The small box that Justin had hidden in his dresser had been won in a poker game. The man who put it up for bet didn't like tea, but he _did_ like Justin's knife. Strange how the two items ended up on the table at the same time, each worth more now than they'd ever been before the war. Justin and I had agreed that we would only drink it on the worst of days and make it last as long as possible. I felt bad that he thought it necessary to make some now, even though I had yet to tell him a thing about my day.

"I'll be back," Justin said, shaking the tea in front of him with a careful smile. "There's bound to be a coffee pot with hot water somewhere in this place." I gave him a nod and then he was out the door, shutting it with an echoing click.

The remaining silence left in the room after Justin left was deafening. Almost suffocating. It wasn't long before I was writing a quick note on a napkin for Justin and out the door myself.

The sun had fallen completely below the horizon, leaving a very low, purple glow of light peaking over its edge. A breeze was picking up, making my down hair a quick annoyance. Pausing at the steps just outside the entrance I'd walked through, I stopped and sat so I could finish sloppily lacing up my boots. No point in doing an efficient job if I was about to slip them back off.

Once I was finished with my laces, I stuffed the ends of my sweats into my boots and stood with my arms crossed over my stomach. Gazing across the base, I noticed that things were starting to die down for the night. The front gates were being shut and bolted and automatic lights began flickering on. That's when I spotted Brent, standing stock still at the edge of a gravel training ground, his back to the rest of the base as he stared out at nothing.

Reaching the training ground, I tried to make my steps as light as possible as I cautiously approached Brent's left side. His arms were crossed in front of him, and he still wore his combat boots and pants. The only thing he'd dropped from earlier were his upper armor plates. His eyes locked on something unmoving and far away, hidden in between the abandoned buildings and rubble that surrounded the base. Minutes passed in silence. I had no idea what to say.

After a while, I almost returned to Justin's barrack without saying anything at all until I heard a soft jingle of metal. I turned and watched as Brent pulled his COG tags up from around his neck, and then he held them out to show me. Kent's tags now hung from the same chain as his.

With tears in my eyes, I just nodded, struggling to fight the lump in my throat. Brent gripped the tags in his hand and let his arm fall to his side.

"I don't know what to do," he murmured, his lips barely moving as he spoke.

_Say something. Say something intelligent_. I took a deep breath, then let it out. "Fight," I told him, proud that I kept my voice even. "Just keep fighting. It's what he'd want you to do."

It was another minute before he answered. "I don't know about that. Kent hated fighting. Training and patrolling he could do. But fighting…it always made him nervous."

"But that's not…" I stopped, choosing my words carefully. "That's not why he's gone. What happened was just…unlucky. We couldn't have stopped it."

Brent laughed once without humor. "Yeah. Right. But I didn't try my hardest. I'm sure there's _something_ I could have done."

"Like what?" I asked, furrowing my eyebrows. "No one can be blamed for this, Brent. So don't blame yourself."

Brent's eyes fell to the ground, and he waited a long time before he started speaking again. "You know I'm the older one," he said, his voice sounding hollow. "Or was. By five minutes. But it was enough to make me feel like an older brother." Brent kicked the gravel at his feet and took a couple of aimless steps to the right. "I was protective," he continued. "Really, _really_ protective. All the time. And that's how mom used to see us. Kent was Kent, and I was the protective, big brother that made the smarter decisions."

Brent started laughing, with real humor this time. "Kent used to do the stupidest stuff sometimes. And then I'd get in trouble for it for not stopping him. 'Why me?' I'd always say. 'We're the same damn age!'" He suddenly stopped laughing, and quicker than the blink of an eye his face fell, his expression turning to one of intense anguish. He had stopped his walking, leaving a distance between us that made it difficult for me to hear him speak.

"Melanie," he whispered very quietly, raising the fist with his and Kent's COG tags up to examine them. "I don't know what to do."

"What do you mean?" I asked, sounding a little desperate.

"Without Kent," he answered. "What am I supposed to do with him gone?" He gave me a pitiful look. "I was able to handle mom and dad dying because he was there. But now…" He paused, and his eyes glazed over as he stared at the ground without emotion. "Now I just don't see the point."

A small chill seeped into my heart and I took a step towards him. "Brent," I said, willing him to look at me. "You can't just give up. You can't just…stop fighting. What about Kent? If you give up, then he died for nothing."

"_Everyone_ is dying for nothing," Brent said, shocking me with anger. "We're fighting a losing battle, and for what? What's the _point_? Our world is _dead_, Melanie. And our race doesn't have much longer."

"Don't say that, Brent." I softened my voice, trying to sooth him.

"You're a good soldier, Mel," he told me as he began toying with the COG tags in his hands. "You follow orders and you fight. You _survive_. But you're good at this kind of thing. You're good at surviving. Me?" He shrugged his shoulders and dropped his arms to his sides again. "I'm tired of fighting. And I don't want to do this anymore."

I took another step towards him but stopped mid-stride when he tossed the COG tags through the air. Reflexively, I caught them with both of my hands and cradled them against my stomach. I gazed down at them for a moment, perplexed, turning them over with my fingers.

"Why-?" I began as I looked up from the tags. And then my heart almost stopped when I saw Brent pull a pistol from his belt and cock it back.

"Brent," I whispered, my breathing shallow and short. "What are you doing?"

He twisted and turned the pistol in his hands, giving it look no different from the one he'd given his and his brother's COG tags. "The only thing I can do," he said in an even voice, looking up at me with watery eyes. His hands trembled slightly.

My heartbeat sped to a rate that hurt. "Brent-"

"Thank you, Melanie," he said. "Take care of my brother's tags."

I forced my frozen body to move forward, trying to stop him, trying to do _anything_. My free hand reached out, helplessly grasping at nothing.

Brent put the pistol to his chin. And then he fired.

I crumpled to the ground and started screaming.

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><p><strong>Sad chapter, I know. I wasn't ever expecting to write one like this. But then it sort of happened. <strong>

**Again, forgive me for the terrible wait. But I'm already writing the next chapter. I really started rushing this chapter, especially the end, because I was so hurried to get it published. I just wanted to finish the damn chapter already and get it on the site. So if it needs something done, isn't all that great or whatever, please oh please let me know. Any and all reviews are highly appreciated. They truly are what keep me moving forward!**


	8. Chapter 8

**It's official. I'm slow as hell, and there's nothing that can be done to help me. **

**The response to my last chapter was FANTASTIC! Thank you so, so much to those who continue to review and put up with my terribly slow pace!**

**It's getting harder and harder to force this damn story out of my brain. But guess what? School is OVER! That's right! NO MORE HIGH SCHOOL. Anyone else celebrating the same thing? I must say it's a fantastic feeling.**

**I have a big picture for the story, but damn is it taking a lot to effort to get there. I never originally planned to make this a long term thing, and I get disappointed sometimes because I know that if it **_**had**_** been a planned out thing, it could have been so much better. But oh well. That's what a grand edit is for, right? Which I intend to do once this thing is complete…whenever that is. **

**Okay, let's get this show on the road.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Eight: Where We Go From Here<strong>

When Brent hit the ground, I remember my brain just shutting down completely on its own, like an electrical system over heating, or a computer trying to do too many things at once. A defense mechanism. I didn't want to deal with the raw tragedy of what I'd seen, and so I just decided not to. I fell to my knees, screamed until my throat burned, and then I didn't make any noise at all.

My body divided into two different people in that moment: a Melanie who was too young, too naïve and too weak to deal with this. That Melanie stayed kneeling on the ground with her hands covering her ears and her eyes squeezed shut. That Melanie was forcing what had just happened out her of her mind, desperately shoving it away until she could pretend it never happened. The other Melanie was strong willed. She gazed at the weaker Melanie and Brent with logic in her mind, recognizing that the situation _was _tragic, but also acknowledging that there was nothing she could have done to prevent it. That Melanie gazed down at the weak half, judging and examining with questions in her eyes. _Will she be okay? Can she get over this?_

Justin arrived after a little while, I don't know how long it took him. He was being followed by two nurses dressed in white, their expressions unreadable and void of emotion as they toted a stretcher towards Brent's body. I watched from my spot in the gravel while they transferred his limp body onto the backboard. His head, spattered with and leaking crimson, lolled to the side in a strange, lifeless way.

I suddenly felt Justin grip my shoulders and pull from the grown. He positioned himself in front of me, obstructing my view of the nurses as he pulled me tightly to his chest. I cradled my hands together in front of me and went limp against him, still desperately clutching at Kent's tags. I could feel Justin shaking. His breathing wavered slightly in my ear.

And then he was tugging me away, ushering me forward with an urgency that made it hard to keep up. I was so numb. My feet nearly dragged behind me.

And then the next minute we were standing in the middle of Justin's barrack, gazing at each other from opposite sides of the room, two cups of lukewarm tea on his dresser. The longer I stood, the more exhausted I felt. It wasn't long until I braced my back against the wall for support, my palms flat on its surface. I let my head droop forward and glanced up at Justin every minute or so through a curtain of hair. He stood stock straight, his arms stiff and his hands clenched into fist.

_Why did this happen?_ weaker Melanie thought. _What do I do?_

I slowly straightened myself from the wall, keeping my head down as I stared at the floor. Then I crossed the room cautiously, as though I were treading over ice. I stopped a foot or so away from Justin and looked up to face him.

"It's late," I heard myself murmur. I found it impossible to look him in the eye. His face was cold and empty. I resisted the urge to reach out and smooth out the strain under his eyes; I wanted to have is face in between my hands as I molded his features back to those of the real Justin, those of my actual friend that were lost under layers of shock.

He suddenly moved forward, startling me and giving my heart a violent jolt. It took me an entire second to realize he only meant to move past me. I turned as Justin nearly collapsed into his bed, laying on his back with his arms spread wide. He stared at the ceiling, unblinking, saying nothing. I stood in the same spot with my eyes on the floor for another minute before finally moving towards his door.

"Wait," he said, and my hand paused on the handle. I turned my head around to look at him.

He was still on his back, his eyes casted upwards. "Stay here," he murmured with little emotion in his voice. "Stay the night. I know you don't want to be alone." Then he paused and said, "_I _don't want to be alone."

A strange feeling crept into my stomach, one that I was very unfamiliar with. My hand on the door knob shook slightly, making me grip it tighter to steady it. I put my back to him again and squeezed my eyes shut.

"I'll sleep on the floor," he went on in the same unchanging voice, as though he were discussing our daily lunch menu. "You'll have to go get your blanket and pillow though. They're not really a luxury around here."

I opened my eyes and furrowed my brow. Opening my mouth, I turned to say something to him, but nothing came out. He still wasn't looking at me.

"I can't," I managed to force out, numbness finally seeping out of my mind.

"Why not? I know you don't have any other activities on your list tonight." Was he teasing me? I turned completely around, still gripping the knob behind my back as I leaned against door.

"We could get in trouble," I clarified. "Regulations-"

"So what?" he countered, and then he laughed once without humor. "You sleep in my room one night. Nothing happens and nothing's going on." He finally sat up from his position in the bed to look at me. "We're adults, Melanie. We're not twelve."

I closed my eyes for the duration of a sigh. "I know," I told him as I finally opened his door. I took a step outside of his room and tiredly looked back at his befuddled expression. "That's why I can't stay." Before he could get another word in, I whispered a final goodnight and shut his door. Then I began my cold, quiet walk back to my own barrack, knowing full well that I'd regret my decision in the morning.

* * *

><p>A booming fist on my door jolted me out of my bed far too early the next day. Disoriented and stumbling, I nearly fell on my face as I scrambled to switch on the lights and answer the door.<p>

"Yes?" I said breathlessly while I swung my door open. And then I had to fight the urge to take a few steps back.

A grizzly, old man with a scowl and short, square haircut glared down at me from the hallway, fully dressed in combat clothing, perfectly laced boots and all. I didn't know if I should be worried or click my heels together and salute. And I was suddenly very aware of my bare feet and old sweats.

"Are you Private Melanie Santiago?" the man ground out with a typical sergeant gruff.

Timidly, I blinked a couple times and forced back a yawn. "Yes sir, I am," I answered, unable to keep the sleep and confusion out of my voice.

The angry looking man continued to glare at me, his eyes rolling from my feet to my face. I shifted my weight to the balls of my feet and impatiently rocked back and forth, my hand still gripping my door.

"Well shit!" the man suddenly barked out, making me flinch inward. The corners of his lips turned upward and his large, powerful hand came out and clapped me on the left shoulder. "About time I met you, kid!" he declared, and a nearly stumbled from the force of his enthusiastic pat.

"U-um," I stammered, steadying myself and willing my brain to catch up with the current events. "Good to meet you, too…sir." I furrowed my eyebrows at nothing in particular, looking around and trying to make sense of the situation.

The man stuck out his right hand and I hesitantly shook it. "Private, I'm Colonel Hoffman," he said, giving me a nod and releasing my hand. "I've known your dad since he was…shit, about your age, I guess."

I resisted the urge to give him a _woopty doo_. "Wow, sir, I had no idea."

"Yep," he went on, shaking his head with his hands on his hips. "Makes me feel older than dirt, meeting you. I'm sure glad he found you, kid. Anyone around here could tell you Santiago sure as hell needed it."

That comment tugged at something in my chest, and I let out a tiny gasp when I suddenly remembered the time I'd watched my father sleep through a sorrowful dream. He had murmured his lost wife's name, and the pain on his face had been real.

Colonel Hoffman scrambled. "Anyways, kid. The real reason I'm here is to let you know you and your squad are to report at the gates in an hour." His friendly, awkward expression immediately molded into one he seemed much more familiar with. With narrow eyes and a grimace, Colonel Hoffman continued spilling out my new orders. "There, you will be briefed on a new mission. Your day will then be spent with the rest of your squad to prepare for it. All of you roll out tonight."

I didn't know if I should feel excited, frightened or just plain exhausted. So instead of feeling anything, I numbly shook my head at him and murmured a "Yes sir." Colonel Hoffman gave me a slight nod in return, and then marched away with heavy footsteps. After he disappeared at the end of the hall, I shut my door with a sigh and then leaned against it, my palms flat on its cool surface. Then I relaxed the muscles in my neck and let my head fall back, hitting the door with a _thud_.

There was a soft jingle of metal, and I blinked once before looking down. _When did I…? _Hanging there from my neck dangled my COG administered tags, now accompanied by Kent and Brent Mitchells. In that moment, an unexpected pang of regret stabbed at my heart, and I reached up to grasp the tags in my hand, fighting back tears.

Where did your tags go when you were the last of your family to perish?

* * *

><p>Forty five minutes later, I was out of my door, fully dressed and ready for combat. I was vaguely aware of the fact that I was slowly growing familiar with the way the heavy metal of my armor consumed me. And the Lancer at my back had become all but unnoticeable. Instead of thinking about anything from the previous night, I focused on the heavy <em>clunks <em>of my boots as I marched towards the exit at the end of my hall.

As I shoved open the door, vicious morning sunlight rained down with a vengeance, burning my eyes and making me squint at the ground. With a frustrated scowl, I started walking towards the front of the base, tying my hair up into a messy bun as I did.

Already standing at the gates stood my squad mate Finn. His dark eyes were staring straight ahead, and that didn't change even as I approached him.

"Hey," I murmured, unable to put much enthusiasm into the greeting. Finn simply gave me a short glance and nodded.

Silence fell again, and I didn't have a single problem with it. It was still early for me, till to eight at the latest. I remembered something Cole had joked about a few days before, trying to explain to the rest of Delta that I was a "growing girl in need of beauty sleep," and that I should be treated as such. A small smile curled the corners of my lips. Cole could always pull a good mood out of me, and I realized that at that moment, I missed them. Cole, my dad, Marcus, and even Baird.

"You seem like you're in a good mood this morning." I glanced up from the ground and found Justin, who was, to my surprise, accompanied by a bouncing Hunter.

"Morning, Melanie!" Hunter beamed at me. And curse him, he made me reach into my memories again. When Hunter wasn't around, Baird thoroughly enjoyed calling him "Spaz-tastic," a nickname that was immature to the extreme, fitting, and always made me laugh.

"Quit grinning like that, you're scaring me." Justin pulled my attention back to him, and though he seemed to be trying to joke, I could tell he wasn't in the mood. Seeing the strain in his eyes nearly dragged me back into the night before, and I fought back the thoughts with desperation. Justin appeared to notice, and empathy passed over his daunting features.

"_You okay?" _he mouthed, and I nodded before looking back at the ground. I would be fine if I just didn't think about it.

Luckily, soon after our sergeant came stomping up with let's-get-down-to-business attitude, from that moment on, we didn't have much time to think _or _talk. Decarlo was quick with his orders, dragging us from one corner of the base to the other. Hoffman had told me that we'd be preparing for some sort of mission, but considering the variety of training that we were suddenly being forced into, I couldn't quite get a grip on what exactly our mission was. Stealth, close combat, close combat with a knife, ammunition conservation, even survival techniques taught by Bernie herself. What the hell were we getting into?

And then there was Decarlo. I don't think I'd ever seen him so angry or anxious. Justin got an ass chewing when he was unable to perfect a grappling move on Finn, and towards the end of the day, Hunter finally realized that it was better for him to just keep his mouth shut.

Why did I have that "we're too young and inexperienced to be doing this shit" feeling again?

At the moment, we were in an indoor gym. Or at least, we were in the remnants of what used to be an indoor gym. The interior had been stripped years ago, and the only useful pieces left were the thin, rubber mats that coated the floor. We were putting them to use now, and personally, I wanted to get the hell out of there.

"No, Santiago," Decarlo marched over with a frustrated scowl on his face and determination in his eyes. "You're doing it all wrong." I let my arms slip from being wrapped around Finn's neck and stood back. Did he really expect me to perfect a take-down against someone twice my size? I was covered in sweat and exhausted. And my armor was getting heavier by the second.

"Finn, stand here," Decarlo ordered, and Finn took a step back from me and squared his shoulders. "Santiago," he reached out and grabbed my right wrist. "Lock your arms at the base of his chin to block off his airway." I hesitantly complied, standing on the tip of my toes so I didn't actually prevent Finn from breathing. "Okay," Decarlo moved to stand behind me. "Now when you sweep him, do it with the leg opposite of the direction you plan on pulling him. In this case, your left." I slid my left boot and braced it against Finn's right toe.

"Now," Decarlo narrowed his eyes and took a breath. "Don't just use your arm muscles. Use your body, especially your legs. Finn, if you think you can reverse that take-down, you do it. She needs to learn." My cheeks flushed with embarrassment and frustration, but I complied. I suddenly gave Finn a violent yank and kicked my left leg back against his right shin. My goal was to knock him off balance, slam him to the ground and pin him with my left knee.

There was a short pregnant pause when Finn's body didn't even budge. I let out a growl and tried again, grunting with pointless effort. For a glorious second, I swear I felt Finn's right leg jerk backwards, and I used that chance to try and bring him to the ground.

Finn's large hands came up to his throat and grasped my thin wrist. My heart nearly leapt into throat, and I gave one more feeble attempt to take him down.

Finn's hands moved up to my forearms, and I was suddenly being lifted over his shoulder. As he was told to do, Finn viciously slammed me on my back, and I let out a strangled cry. In the background, Hunter and Justin each let out hisses of empathy.

Holding back sobs of frustration, I forced myself to turn them into coughs as I rolled over to my stomach. Tears stung at my eyes. _Fuck_, my back hurt.

"Damn it, Melanie!" Decarlo scolded, and I caught sight of his boots in the corner of my eye. "What the hell do you expect is going to happen if you can't perform this on an enemy?" He suddenly grasped my arm and yanked me to my feet. "Do it again. You need to get this right."

I staggered a bit before regaining my balance. "Yes sir," I murmured, hunching my shoulders and readying my stance again.

"Widen your feet, kid. Helps with balance." I gasped and threw a glance over my shoulder to find Marcus, standing by as a quiet observer, his hands stuffed into the pockets of old cargo pants. Slowly, I blinked and nodded, turning back towards Finn and nervously wrapping my arms around his neck.

"Use your weight," Marcus continue. "Don't be too textbook about it. Just do what feels easiest."

I took in a slow breath, furrowed my brow and moved my leg into place. Letting my breath out, I grunted and yanked back, kicking my left leg and heaving with all my strength. With great effort, I forced Finn to the ground and landed on his back, not quite pinning him as gracefully as I wanted to, but pinning him nonetheless.

Finn took the force like a champ, barely letting out a noise as he smacked down onto the mat. I was too stunned to jump up and regain my footing like I was taught. Instead, I stayed down on the mat for a moment even after Finn stood back up, trying to catch my breath. I glanced up from the floor to turn and thank Marcus for the tips, but he had already moved to leave, his back to me as he made his way towards the exit.

"Good job," Justin commended, walking over and offering me his hand. I took it and he pulled me upward as he watched Marcus leave the building. "Huh," Justin mused. "Never seen him out of armor before."

I laughed once at his strange observation and glanced over at Decarlo. He was already coaching Hunter on the same maneuver, and poor Finn being the largest of us all was stuck on the receiving end again. "Any of this seem sketchy to you?" I asked, unable to help myself or the nervous feeling that had been creeping through me all day. "Decarlo seems…tense. And so did Bernie."

Justin crossed his arms over his chest, sighing. "All this training _is_ a lot to take in," he said, tilting his head as we watched Hunter get flipped over Finn's shoulder like a light sack of potatoes. "But it's all necessary in the end. We gotta start somewhere, don't we?" Decarlo bent over and gave Hunter a good ass chewing before he could even move to stand.

"Yeah, you've got a point." I nodded and smirked as Hunter tried to get up with his right hand braced against his lower back in pain. He did his best to shake it off, and then readied himself for another go. I then dropped my eyes to my boots as I scuffed them across the rubber mat. "Besides," I continued thoughtfully. "They'd never throw us into anything we weren't ready for. Right?" Justin nodded in affirmation, and we turned our eyes back to the lesson before us.

* * *

><p>"Mel, cut it out. Look at me. <em>Look at me<em>."

I squirmed, trying to loosen my father's embarrassingly tight hold on my chin. Cole and Baird were there. Judging me. Couldn't my dad choose a better time for his overprotective tendencies?

"Dad, for the last time, I'm _fine_." I finally managed to tug away from my father's hold, but he kept close, his dark eyes nearly boring into me as he examined the fresh purple lump just above my left eyebrow.

"Look." He leaned forward as he continued his ministrations with concern in his eyes. "I'm your dad, and you're my little girl." I scowled, embarrassed, but he went on. "Now whether you like it or not, you're gonna have to deal with me every once in a while. Let me look out for you even when you don't need it or want it and all that stuff." Blood colored my cheeks and my eyes were anywhere but his face. I wish he could have told me that when we were _alone_…

"Hey, doesn't this pretty much seal the deal, Dom?" Baird stepped forward with Cole, each of them shouldering their Lancers and sporting evil grins. "Now _both _of you have sacrificed your skulls for the sake of the COG. Next thing you know you'll be finishing each other's sentences."

I grumbled some choice words under my breath and attempted to once again pull away from my father's poking and prodding. The pad of his thumb brushed against the lump above my eye, making me wince with a hiss. "_Daaad_," I murmured, sounding a bit whiny. "Cut it out, would you? I'm fine, really." Sighing, he finally dropped his hands to his side and took a step back. But then he got this look in his eye like he just couldn't help what he was about to do, and suddenly wrapped his arms around my shoulders and crushed me to his chest. I squealed and coughed, heaving against his armor plate desperately to escape.

"Dad!" I wheezed. "Come on! I gotta go!" Cole and Baird were clutching their sides now, laughing it up at my expense. I managed to wriggle out of his hold, exasperated and blushing like an idiot. Loose strands of hair dangled in my eyes and I puffed out a breath of air, forcing them out of my vision.

"Alright, alright." My dad chuckled and bent to grab my kit bag for me, his head on a swivel as he glanced around. "Damn, where'd Marcus go off to? I thought he'd be around to see you off."

"What is this, a trip send off?" I snatched my bag from my father and scowled. "I'm going on a _mission_. Not to freaking summer camp. I don't need to hug and kiss everyone goodbye." With that, I spun on my heal and began walking away as fast as my boots could carry me.

"Mel, wait!" My father's voice forced me to halt once again. Grumbling, I slowly turned back around.

He jogged over to me and then stopped about a foot away. He couldn't look me in the eye, his gaze switching from the ground to the sky. "Hey, uh. Be careful out there, alright? Lately it seems like you're a magnet for trouble, whether you're a part of it or not."

My throat tightened as my mind shifted once again to the night before, and I realized I had yet to tell him about it. I guess I'd have to wait until I returned. That is, if I even _wanted _to tell him about it. The topic wasn't mine to receive sympathy for, which I knew would inevitably happen.

My dad's gaze finally connected with mine, and he gave me a small smile. "Come back to me, okay?" he asked, the soft tone in his voice making my eyes brim. _Only he is allowed to do this to me_ I thought vaguely, giving a small sniff.

"I will, dad," I assured him, forcing an awkward smile of my own. "I promise."

He pulled me in for one last hug, and I wished my cheek was pressed to his warm chest instead of the cold, hard surface of his armor. My squad and I had been told to remove ours and then put it back on before our drop off. I didn't know why.

Knowing that I would have to be the one to end the hug, I pulled away and grabbed my kit bag. "Love you dad," I told him, walking a couple of steps backwards before turning around.

"Love you too, babe!" he called, and I continued forward, knowing that if I turned around again I'd be tempted to run back into his arms.

* * *

><p>My armor weighed me down once again, and I hadn't missed it a single bit. Finn, Hunter, Justin and I stood waiting just outside the entrance gates, patiently waiting for a Raven to pick us up, along with Decarlo. We all remained silent for the most part, even Hunter, which was a bit strange considering. I felt comfort in the fact that I wasn't the only one nervous.<p>

A few long, long minutes had ticked by when we all looked up to the sound of two men in boots marching towards us. It was Sergeant Decarlo, oddly accompanied by none other than Marcus Fenix.

From the looks of it, they were arguing about something. Each of the men marched with a brisk vigor, Marcus sporting a condescending glare and Decarlo a look of disgust. When they reached us, my squad and I all instinctively took nervous steps back, giving the angry men space to have their adamant conversation.

"Anyone with a fucking brain can figure it out," Marcus growled when he and Decarlo came to a stop a few feet away from us. "This shit will only end in disaster. Since when do teenagers get shoved out on suicide missions?"

Decarlo gave Marcus a nasty look, obviously willing him to lower his voice. "How the hell should I know?" he asked. "I've been given simple instructions that I have to follow. That's how this goddamn army works, Fenix." Justin and I exchanged an uneasy look. He raised an eyebrow at me, but I shrugged, insisting that I didn't know what the deal was.

"So you drag your team into unknown waters and hope for the fucking best? Great plan, if you want someone to get killed." I'd never seen Marcus so worked up about something. Hell, the last time I'd seen him show any strong emotion was when he'd shown up to the very spot I stood at and showed me my unconscious and bleeding father.

Something wasn't right. I had been doing my best _not _to think all damn day, and now everything was hitting me. Decarlo's anger, a tense Bernie, all that training and now Marcus? The only thing left for anyone to do was dangle a sign in front of me that read _Something's going on and you haven't been informed. _

Decarlo took a dangerous step closer to Marcus, and they were nearly nose to nose. "You don't think I've given this any thought? I know damn well what's going on. But I've got my orders, and that's that. You of all people should know what can happen when you disobey them."

Marcus's whole body went tense and I almost thought he was going to drop Decarlo with a punch. The fury in his eyes would have made me crumple, but Decarlo stood at the brunt of the glare and answered it with his own. This went on for another moment, and then Marcus suddenly turned from Decarlo with a scowl and a troubled look. But before he could walk away, he lifted his eyes, and they suddenly locked with mine and froze.

I stared back, willing him to know that I could feel what he felt. _What's happening, Marcus? What are they keeping from us?_

And then his eyes instantly shifted from mine, releasing me from the intensity of his gaze. He walked right past us, his rough "good luck" the last thing he said as he disappeared.

My heart began hammering in my chest so intensely I thought the others might be able to hear it. But when Decarlo angrily made his way over to us, his face red with anger, I didn't dare say a word.

The sharp sound of an inbound Raven sliced through the air, and everyone's eyes lifted to the chopper as it slowed, hovered, and began its decent towards the ground. Dust and rocks from the gravel at our feet whipped through the air, stinging at my exposed skin. I squinted my eyes and used a hand to hold as many loose hair strands in place as possible.

Moments before the Raven made landfall, Justin nudged me from the right with his elbow and I looked at him. His eyebrows were furrowed. He could feel it too.

And then the Raven had landed, and Decarlo was ordering us to move. We sprinted and climbed aboard the chopper, all quiet and befuddled. Not a word was said as the Raven took to the skies again, and began flying us to our missions, towards battlefields unknown.

**END OF PART ONE**

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><p><strong>What? Multiple parts? The f*** is going on?<strong>

**Yep, it was a pretty recent decision, but it's necessary! And not much is changing, really. Part two will be posted right here in the same place, picking up right where this is leaving off. But what are the benefits, you ask? Well, let's take it from the top! I've actually got a plan for this! I'm not just sitting down at my computer and, for lack of a better saying, pulling story line out of my ass. And guess what? More point of views! We'll get a little bit of everyone during the next part. Oh, and there's also a prologue! Did I mention that's already written?**

**But first, please tell me what's going through your heads! The response to my last chapter was nothing short of amazing, and my excitement with this story grows with each post. You guys deserve a writer who can update a hell of a lot faster, but I'm trying my best, and I'll continue to push forward! **

**Any thoughts on part one? Was there something it lacked that you crave? What are you thinking about all this "multiple parts" business? Should I even still be writing this damn thing?**

**Thank you all so much! I'll get back to you soon!**

**P.S. Give me a shout if this chapter has any errors. I finished it while on vacation at three in the morning, and the power to do a quick edit just wasn't happening. **


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello! Thanks for the awesome reviews and favorites so far, guys. I had no idea so many people were actually excited about this story! **_**I'm**_** so excited I can't even stand it! :D**

**This is just a prologue, hence the shortness. But hopefully chapter one will be complete soon, and part two can finally begin!**

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><p><strong>Part Two: Chapter Nine: Prologue<strong>

**Baird**

_Fuck_. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

This whole operation was going straight to shit, and with good old Delta Squad being the COG-loyal dog it was, as usual it left us stuck smack in the middle of it. And when I say "it" I actually mean the sixth circle of hell.

Chances were the girl would run out of blood before the rest of us ran out of adrenaline. I could clearly see that from where I stood a few feet away, even with the back of Dom's head obstructing my view.

_Shit, Dom. _I had a wild thought process for a moment, thinking that as soon as she was gone, Dom probably wouldn't be far behind. The fact that I could form this thought with such assurance and certainty freaked me the fuck out.

Yeah, I knew exactly how it would go. Santiago would be losing not only his last kid, but the rest of his dead family all over again. Melanie would hurt the most, but she would be a gateway to all kinds of other shit that he blamed himself for. And no matter how much Fenix assured him that there was nothing he could have done, Dom would be a persistent motherfucker when it came to thickening his own pool of dark, choking depression. The guy was an absolute masochist to the tenth degree.

But when it all came down to it, there really _wasn't _anything Dom could have done. And what had he been expecting? His eighteen year old, totally inexperienced daughter to come out of this shit unscathed? Dream on, Santiago. No matter how much you want your kid to have a perfect life, it just wasn't going to happen. Not on this goddamn planet.

He wasn't the reason his daughter was dying. It was the enemy's. It was the Locusts' exhausting persistence and their obnoxious habit of using COG weaponry.

I caught a good glance at Melanie's face, decorated with blacks and reds. Her eyes screwed shut against the pain and the thought of dying, and her lips open wide, shining with blood and emitting whimpers and soundless cries. She'd never looked so damn young before, and as I suddenly fell to my knees next to her, I realized I was already in too deep.

At first, she was all Dom's. _His _daughter. _His _relief. _His _new happiness. And now look at us. Marcus had that never-leave-a-man-behind look going in his eyes as he gazed at the sky and barked into the radio, demanding immediate medevac. Cole, kneeling opposite of me on the other side of Mel, pressed bloody gauze and fingers to her torso, furrowing his eyebrows in a way that was never good for morale. And me? I was pulling out med pack after med pack, trying to stop all of the bleeding and wondering why the fuck my heart was beating so goddamn hard.

I shot another fleeting glance at Melanie's paling face, and her agonized expression hammered away in my brain until I could only fully process one complete thought.

_It would really suck for everybody if you died._

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. Melanie Santiago couldn't die, not here. Not now. Because by judging the expressions around me and the fear in my gut, her death would also be the death of us all.

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><p><strong>Alright…TIME TO GET THIS SHOW ON THE ROAD! Next posting, we kick this story off! Tell me what you guys thought about this crazy, little prologue :) got any questions? Chances are I won't be able to answer them (you know, because of spoilers and whatnot), but there's nothing wrong with asking!<strong>


	10. Chapter 10

**Wooh! That prologue left a ton of questions, didn't it? I'm sad to say that I don't think this chapter gave you any answers. But look on the bright side: we're on our way to finding them! **

**This chapter was actually coming along really freaking fast until my mom literally started shoving a "before college to-do list" down my throat. So instead of writing each time I turned on my laptop, I was registering for classes and trying to figure out what I want to major in. Ugh. I'll be happy when all of that junk is taken care of! **

**Nothing keeps me going better than all of you wonderful, faithful, outstanding reviewers :) As always, thanks for all the beautiful responses!**

**Happy reading!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Ten: Here We Go (We're Going Down)<strong>

**Melanie**

Water. We were soaring over nothing but water.

I felt like a child gazing over the side of the Raven, trying to catch a glimpse of the unknown. But then again, these days, the more of the world I saw, the more and more I felt like a child.

I'd never seen such a limitless amount of water. The site of the ocean baffled me; I was speechless. I found myself imagining how it would feel to leap from the Raven and sink into the middle of its vastness, to lose myself in its cold embrace.

Then another thought ran through my head, chasing the previous one away: I didn't even know how to swim.

Hell I wasn't in the Navy, and this was the first time I'd ever seen enough water to actually swim in. I thought of my father how he'd laugh if I admitted this to him. But then he'd also get this sad look in his eye when he realized that he had once again failed to give me the entire world.

Didn't he realize yet that he _was _my entire world?

I was shocked and taken aback by my sudden confession, not only by the concept itself, but by how effortlessly the thought flowed. How could I have changed so much in such a short amount of time without realizing it?

It had been two days since I'd seen my father. Where in the hell were we flying? It sure was taking a long time to get there. We'd had a temporary landfall late last night in some sketchy looking camp located on top of a fuel line. The two men guarding the Stranded post had been negotiable, offering us fuel if we didn't "throw our COG weight around and attract grub attention." Sometimes, Stranded really ticked me off.

And now the sun was setting again, a brilliant, red ball of fire sinking gradually under the horizon of water with each passing minute. We had traveled so far. Where in the hell could we be going? Did civilization even still exist in this dark corner of the planet?

I sighed heavily and closed my eyes. I had so many questions, and no one with answers. If this was how the COG usually operated, I sure as hell hadn't had to deal with it before. A few weeks back, I'd gotten into an argument with Mark Jefferson about a similar situation, insisting that ignorance wasn't always bliss. Despite my efforts, Jefferson always had been one of those "I don't know, and I don't care that I don't know" kind of guys. That's probably why he'd been promoted and dragged out of our squad to begin his training as a future bureaucrat. He'd make the perfect pencil pusher one day.

Justin, sitting to my right, could sense my stress, and he gave me a comforting look. Ah, Justin. Even though he most likely felt more nervous than I did, it didn't stop him from trying to make me feel better. I offered up a smile, and then turned back to continue my water gazing.

Sure, I was pretty tense about our upcoming mission. Scared, even. But even though I'd never say the words out loud, Justin made it all a hell of a lot more bearable. Gently, making it seem as though I were doing it unconsciously, I leaned into him, our arms and thighs pressing together. Soon after, my heart rate slowed, and my worry-filled thoughts subsided.

Justin, staring straight ahead, said nothing even though I knew he'd noticed my small shift of movement. Acting as the loyal friend he was, he tensed for only a moment before leaning right back.

* * *

><p><strong>Dom<strong>

Freaking hell. How many times did we have to tell these idiots? You go _through _the grubs, not around them. It's simple, affective, and gets the job done in the shortest amount of time. Yeah, sure, every once in a while you gotta slip in through the back door. But why tiptoe around when it wasn't necessary?

I nudged a grub corpse with the tip of my boot, scowling. _Now stay dead_, I thought angrily. _Do us all a favor and just die_.

So what if I had anger issues? Most of the time I held them in, and I was _way_ better than Baird. More handsome, too.

He knows it.

I jogged forward to keep up with the others. They crept ahead slowly, ears strained and eyes open. This place was crawling with Locusts, and more than once we'd been stopped by the vibrations under our feet. Marcus seemed especially tense today. I'd watched him strain the muscles in his neck more than once, and those eyes narrow at nothing.

He was deep in thought about something, alright. I just needed to find out what.

"Man," Cole said, running a hand across his forehead. "If I see one more grub pop up outta the ground, I might just try reasoning with it."

Baird snorted, and for a rare moment he slipped his goggled off of his head and started trying to wipe the grit from them with his gloved hands. "Ah shit," he muttered. "Think I scratched them. Fuck reasoning, those bastards are gonna pay for this." Grumbling under his breath, he placed them back on his head and huffed. I was surprised at how quick his whining came to an end. Hell, even Baird got tired hearing his own voice every once in a while.

"Where to next?" I asked, forcing Marcus to crawl out of his deep thinking for a minute. Despite his seemingly serious mood, he gave a tiny, knowing smirk.

"The sewer," he answered, staring straight ahead.

Me, Baird and Cole all gave a dramatic and stretched out groan. Cole even swerved in his walking and propped an elbow on Baird's shoulder in exasperation.

"_Nooooooo_," Baird moaned, slapping a palm to his face. _And just like that, the whining returns._ "Not the sewer. _Anything _but the sewer. Last time we were down there, I smelt like shit for months."

"You always smell like shit," I remarked.

"Fuck you, Santiago. You and Fenix always get to take the fucking high road. And where do Cole and I end up? Knee deep in excretions."

"Well then if it makes you feel any better, _we'll _take the low road this time." Marcus pulled at the chain on his Lancer, checking the blade for kinks or catches. "Whatever keeps your mouth shut."

I snorted. _Not likely_, I thought. But Marcus had slipped back into his dark mood, and it didn't seem like all that great of an idea to get Baird riled up. I kept my mouth shut, and made a mental note to confront Marcus as soon as I could get him alone. 'Cause there was no way he would spill his guts in front of Baird and Cole. Not something that was eating at him _this _much.

"I say they make some of those kids patrol undergrounds for once." Cole had one of those five star grins on his face. "Show them what the _real _COG's all about."

Baird barked a laugh. "Yeah. Could you picture little miss Santiago wading through that crap? Now _that _would be fun to watch." Cole gave a heavy laugh. He agreed.

I scowled down at my Lancer in my hands, trying to find something wrong so I could fix it and have an excuse to hang my head. "No daughter of mine will be walking through shit, _that's _for sure." I released an ammunition cartridge and then smacked it back in. "Hell, I'll carry her if I have to."

Cole laughed another round before grabbing my right shoulder and shaking me. "D'awe, now that's great parenting. But what about us? You got enough room on your back for me, too?"

I smirked. "Yeah right. Get Baird to carry you. He needs the exercise anyways."

"Oh _that's _it-"

"Guys," Marcus cut in, giving us all the _shut the fuck up please _look. Then he gestured towards the ground with his Lancer and gave a nod of his head. Sitting at our feet was a sewer grate. Baird gave it an evil, nasty look.

Marcus sent a glance my way and then we both bent down to wedge our fingers through the grate holes and lift it from the opening. After setting the heavy circle of metal on the concrete, I gazed down the black hole and forced myself to breathe through my mouth.

"Nope," Baird said. "Not happening. Not again in this lifetime."

"Come on, Damon. It ain't all that bad." Cole walked up to the edge of the hole and peaked over the edge. "Think of it as an old, Delta tradition."

"Fuck tradition."

"Get in the hole, Baird," Marcus ordered, giving him a level glare. Mumbling, Baird made a show of dragging his feet as he reluctantly started climbing down into the sewer entrance, whining all the way down. Then Marcus went, I followed, and Cole sealed the hole with the grate once again before climbing down after us.

"You know, Baird," Cole mused as he reached the bottom of the steel ladder. "Even though she's _way _more mature than you, you huffing and puffing like a teenager makes me kinda miss lil Santiago. It's a shame she ain't here to shut you up." Cole chuckled, and Baird growled.

"Glad I can amuse you," he grumbled. "Now can we get the fuck moving, please? _Before _the shit seeps through my boots." Baird started sloshing forward into the poorly lit tunnel, taking careful steps. Personally I'd never slipped while trudging through the underground passageways of the planet, but I hear it sucks. Terribly.

Trying to keep my mind off of Cole's comment (I knew _I _missed Melanie), I started walking after Baird. I really hoped the sludge stayed ankle deep, because I knew much worse existed. "What's the plan, Marcus?" I asked, scrunching my nose against the awful smell.

"Same as always," he said. "Find 'em, kill 'em."

"Sounds good to me, boss man!" Cole marched along with us as graceful as ever, not a single worry on his face. "Here we go!"

* * *

><p><strong>Melanie<strong>

"Set us down when you find a clearing," Decarlo shouted towards the front of the Raven. "We'll travel on foot the rest of the way."

The rest of the way? We had _more _traveling to do?

"Where exactly are we heading, sarge?" Hunter asked, and for once I was thankful for his constant curiosity. Justin, Finn and I all stared at Decarlo in anticipation, ready for his answer.

Decarlo blew air out through his nose and looked away, angry and as stoic as ever. "Control," he muttered in his radio. "We're making landfall soon. Is our radio signal still coming through?" He paused for a moment and then nodded. "Good. We'll keep you posted."

_Left in the dark again, _I thought begrudgingly, resting my chin in my hand. Where was Baird's incessant nagging when you needed it?

An alarming beeping rang out from the front of the Raven, and I watched as the pilot began checking her instruments. She was a spunky woman about five years older than me and had a lot of red hair. She checked a couple of screens and pressed some buttons before sitting back in her chair again.

"Decarlo!" she called out, cautiously eyeing the data readings in front of her. Sergeant Decarlo was out of his seat in an instant, hunching over so he could keep his balance as he walked to the front of the chopper.

"What is it?" he asked, looking serious.

She pointed at something in front of her. "Hostiles. Six klicks north of our position."

Decarlo tensed. "_Six_? You were only just now able to pick them up on the radar?"

The woman furrowed her eyebrows, creating a deep 'V' on her forehead. "We're off the grid, sir. My tools just aren't at full potential. We may also lose radio contact soon. Do you still want me to set down?"

Decarlo turned away from the pilot, looking torn. Something was eating away at him enough to make him sweat. "Drop us as quickly as you can," he said. "We'll have a better chance on the ground then up here. We've got one Raven and we need to save it." The woman nodded, and Decarlo moved to go and sit back down.

"Uuummm…sarge?" Hunter called nervously, and we all looked up at the right opening of the Raven to find him cautiously leaning over the edge, gripping the door gun with both hands. "We've, uh…we've got some company."

In a second, every one was scattering to either the right side or left side of the Raven to check outside. I was the first at the left, and grabbing hold of a handle overhead, I leaned out as far as I dared, the wind of flight and the chopper blades whipping my loose hairs wildly around my face.

Squinting my wind burned eyes, I searched the air for any signs of life, but I couldn't see anything. And then after a moment, I spotted a dark spot in the air. It was something flying towards us, and it was flying _fast_. "He's right!" I shouted, turning around to look at Justin and Finn behind me. Then I stuck my head back into the wind to watch as the object grew closer and closer. After a moment I could make out its shape, and it certainly didn't look like anything that belonged to the COG.

I squinted my eyes again, taken aback. _What in the _world_?_

"Reaver!" Decarlo shouted. "Carter, we've got a Reaver on our ass!"

Justin grabbed my wrist and pulled me away from the door. I caught his glance for only a moment, seeing real fear there. And then Decarlo began shouting orders, demanding that we get to our battle stations.

Justin and Hunter each manned the door guns, while Finn and I kneeled at the ready with our Lancers raised. Decarlo was screaming into his radio again, but this time, I don't think anyone answered back.

"Control! This is Unit Twelve! We're being pursued by a Reaver, and have reports of hostiles on the ground! What action should we take?" Decarlo's eyes were wild as he waited for a reply. "Control, this is Unit Twelve!" he tried again. "Can you hear me?" He was quiet for another moment before jerking his hand away from his ear and exclaiming "_Fuck!_" before punching one of the seats. Then he joined Justin and I on the left side of the Raven.

"Shoot that fucker down as soon as it's in range," he ordered, grabbing his own Lancer and standing close behind me. Then he looked over his shoulder and glanced at the pilot. "Forget setting down and get us out of here!"

The Reaver looked monstrous and almost as big as the Raven itself. It was like some sort of massive, flying spider, with a huge, round body and long, tentacle-like legs that flew behind it as it soared. It flew along side the Raven instead of heading straight forward like I expected it to. Then the Reaver suddenly veered towards us, only meters away.

"Fire!" Decarlo shouted, and everyone on the left side of the Raven began emptying ammo clips into the flying beast. The Reaver suddenly slowed its pace, distancing itself from the Raven and then fired back, littering the tail of the chopper with bullet holes. I instinctively jerked away from the opening of the Raven and covered my neck with my arms. Bits of metal from the side of the chopper bit at my exposed skin.

"Keep going!" Decarlo demanded. "Get it away from the Raven before it-"

His order was suddenly cut short when an explosion from the tail rocked the Raven and knocked everyone on their sides. I screamed and caught myself with my hands before face-planting.

"_Shit!_" the pilot cursed. "Get rid of that thing before it gets rid of _us_!"

Shakily getting to my feet, I wavered a bit before completely gaining my balance and picking my Lancer back up. The others did the same, and Decarlo seemed to be favoring a bump on his head that was already swelling.

"Sir!" I grabbed a handle and made my way over towards Decarlo, gripping his arm and helping him stand. "Sarge, are you okay?" He was grinding his teeth and covering the wound with a hand.

"I'm fine!" he barked, squeezing his eyes shut. "Just get on the gun! The Raven won't stand much more of this!" Finn and Hunter had already stumbled to their feet, and Justin was reloading his Lancer. I leapt onto the door gun, aimed at the Reaver and opened fire once again. The gun was powerful and rattled my teeth. By the time I had gotten a hang of the aiming, it was already needing to cool down.

"Keep it steady," Finn murmured in my ear, startling me. Even in a crisis he moved quietly and unnoticed. Hunter had also joined us on the left side, bracing his right side against the chopper's frame to help him shoot better. Justin did the same to my left. We all fired at the Reaver together, filling the beast with bullets.

And then two things happened nearly simultaneously. The Reaver let out a strange sound, a combination of a screech and a hiss. Its flight pattern abruptly took a turn for the ground. We had finally killed it.

But not before it suddenly stopped firing its machine guns and instead answered back with a single missile, launching it straight at our tail.

Decarlo stopped firing. "_BRACE!_"

As the Reaver began its dive towards the surface, its missile struck us. And in that moment, I nearly choked on my own fear.

One second I was standing, and then the next I was on my back, my body aching and my ears ringing. The sound of the explosion was absolutely deafening, leaving my frame rattling. It was hard to believe the Raven still flew in one piece. But warning sounds were going off, and our tail coughed up flames. We wouldn't be flying for long.

"_Mayday, mayday, mayday!_" Decarlo screamed into his radio. "We're going down, control! _We're going down!_"

I sat up and simply watched the chaos in silence, my frantic senses slowing everything down before my eyes. Decarlo and Finn had miraculously managed to stay on their feet. But Justin, Hunter and I all sat on our asses, and now had to make the decision to either stay down, or risk the trouble of trying to stand. Our pilot was furious, and she was firing off a thousand words a minute into her radio.

So what if we _did_ reach control? There wasn't a damn thing they could do for us now.

The Raven shook as though it may instantly break apart at any moment. I felt my stomach become weightless when the chopper took a sharp turn for the ground, and I squeezed my eyes shut against a sudden wave of nausea.

_Please_, I thought indirectly, desperate. _Please, please, not now. This can't be happening. Not after I've gotten a taste of how true life feels._

We suddenly tilted sideways, and I began sliding towards an opening of the Raven. I would have slipped straight out if Justin hadn't snatched my arm and yanked me towards him. He and Hunter were huddled against the bench seats that Decarlo and Finn had a grasp on. I realized that they were all preparing.

_This was it. We were going to crash, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. _

I scrambled on my hands and knees the best I could until I was hunched into Justin's side. Pride be damned, I clutched onto him and held my breath. It would only be a couple seconds now.

Justin pressed his forehead to mine. The world around us quaked.

And then I felt nothing.

* * *

><p><strong>Dom<strong>

Never again would I take the sunlight for granted.

No really, I swear.

And it's not because of what you think; yeah, sure, wading through mid-shin high _shit _wasn't anywhere near the top of my "favorite things to do" list. But damn. I knew Baird was a whiner on the surface.

Who knew he could actually get _worse_?

I was just waiting, _wishing_, for the moment when Marcus would finally snap and turn on his I'm-Sergeant-And-You're-Not-So-Shut-The-Fuck-Up voice and silence Baird for good. Or, at least keep him quiet until we reached the surface again.

But _no_. He was still brooding. And _I _was edging closer and closer to the moment when I finally threw my hands in the air and turned on my We're-Not-Going-Anywhere-Until-You-Tell-Me-What-The-Fuck-Is-Up voice.

So yeah, being underground for extended periods of time really got me wound up. The smell definitely wasn't helping, either. Plus, I had a daughter hundreds of miles away doing who knows what and getting _shot at_ by who knows what.

_I had a daughter_. Yep. I still wasn't used to it.

I mean, what kind of dad lets his little girl fight in the same war that he was? It drove me insane just thinking about all the terrible things that could happen to her. Hell, it drove me crazy just thinking about what trouble Bennie and Sylvie could have gotten into when they simply opened up a box of magic markers. But Melanie? She was an official, enlisted COG soldier who shot at, and was shot at _by _Locusts. I never would have let Sylvia join the army. She was my little girl, and the thought of her getting tossed into battle nearly gave me a heart attack.

But when Melanie was brought to me, she wasn't my little girl. And she hadn't been little for long time.

She was grown. Still growing, but much faster than I ever would have wanted. And it was all because of this crazy ass, upside down world.

_I'll give you the world one day, sweetheart. I just have to make it one worth giving first._

There had been very little activity today underground, mainly wretches and tickers. I certainly wasn't complaining about that. Who wanted to risk getting shit on your face while you were busy dodging bullets? This was a messy job, and apparently Delta was the only one willing to do it.

Does throw you into some crazy situations though.

"I think my sinuses have permanently shut themselves down for their own protection," Baird mumbled when a surprisingly large rat scurried over a pipe connected to the concrete wall.

"Well, at least we've got instinct on our side," Cole commented. "When in doubt, do as the rats do."

Baird visually shuddered. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"I'm just saying we've gotta be going the right way. Plus, if I were a rat, I wouldn't be stickin' around when Locusts are near by, ya know?"

"'If I were a rat?' I will never trust a method requiring me to ask the question 'if I were a rat.'"

"Hey Marcus," I popped in, hoping to put an end to Baird and Cole's antics before they turned into another argument based on made up facts and past experiences only they knew about. "How much further? This is supposed to be one of the shorter lines, right?"

Marcus made a noise in the back of his throat and blinked. I'd caught him thinking again. "Control," he murmured into his radio. "This is Delta. What's our exact position?"

There was a crackling in everyone's ear. "Hold on, I'll check." Anya paused for a sec. "You've just passed the midway point. Your next exit point is about two klicks ahead. Keep moving straight, and you'll be fine."

"Thanks, Anya. We'll keep you posted. Delta out."

"Wait!" The word was out of my mouth before I could stop it. Marcus gave me a glance, but I just couldn't help myself; I had to ask at least once. "Hey Anya, can you check on something for me?"

"Sure. What do you need, Dom?" she asked, always ready to help even though I'd already asked far too much of her over the years. And here I was, asking for more favors, putting more work on her shoulders.

I hesitated, unsure of what I should actually say. "There's a squad out," I began. "Unit Twelve. Can you keep me updated on their status?"

There was a moment of silence. "Well they haven't been placed under my watch, but let me look them up in the system. Any official check-ins will be listed there. But for recent news, I'll have to ask around."

"That's fine," I answered quickly, thankful that she could give me anything at all.

Another minute of quiet passed while we continued to slosh forward. "Okay," Anya started. "I've pulled up the squad on my computer. Four privates under the command of sergeant Anthony Decarlo, correct?"

"Right."

"Wait a second…" Anya mused in shock. "Abel, Valentine, and…_Santiago? _Dom, is this who I think it is?" In that moment she slipped from Lieutenant Stroud to just plain Anya; a long time friend, the woman who spent almost as much time searching for my wife as I did, and now, a woman about to gush about how she'd heard through the grape vine about my new daughter, but hadn't had the chance to ask me about her yet.

I current didn't have the patience for any of that.

"Yep, that's her," I cut in, a bit of urgency in my voice. "If anything eventful happens during their mission, keep me in the loop, okay? If it's not too much to ask."

"Of course, Dom. I'll let you know." I could literally hear Anya smiling. The next time I saw her, she'd bombard me with the conversation of a lifetime. "Control out."

When the line went quiet, I felt a heavy weight lift off my shoulders, and then quickly be replaced with another one. Sure, because I've got friends in high places, I'd be able to keep tabs on my daughter as she shot her way through far away places. Now I only had to worry half as much. But then again, Marcus was giving me this sideways glance that I was doing my best to ignore. It was that glance he used to give me every once in a while before I found Maria.

Secretly, he had his own way of checking on me, whether I wanted it or not. And now that I actually had other things in the world to worry about besides saving his ass, Marcus thought it necessary to spend a little extra time looking out for _my_ ass. I don't even think he knew he did it.

But those cold, steel glances put me under more pressure than he could have imagined. Because when someone watched your back as much as Marcus did, you felt like you had a special duty to fulfill. Like you had expectations. Expectations nearly impossible to live up to. The thought of letting him down tore away at me, and so each time I caught him and his sideways glance, I did everything I could to school my expression and make it seem as though the only worry I had was right there in front of me.

The pressure got to me sometimes. I usually took it out on Baird. It was easy to be angry with him because _everyone_ had a reason to be angry at Baird. Plus, it was _way _easier to be mad at him then Marcus. Hell, I couldn't even come up with a good reason to _be_ mad at Marcus.

Which brings up a point that I sometimes wonder about: does Baird hide behind his anger like I do? Or is he really just that big of an asshole?

I was more than happy when we reached the end of the line and began climbing back to the surface. The darkness was getting to me. It was too damn quiet, and I was going overboard with all the life contemplation.

It wasn't until my boots were firmly planted on dry concrete that our ears were crackling again, and Anya's voice was dragging my mind back into the sunlight.

"Delta, this is control, do you copy?"

Everyone's eyes went straight to me. God damn it, was I really that bad? Grinding my teeth, I put a finger to my ear.

"Go ahead, Anya."

"Dom? I've got some information regarding your daughter's squad."

I hung my head, almost like I was trying to have a private phone call. "Okay, great. Lay it on me," I said eagerly.

She paused for a long moment. For a second I thought she hadn't heard me, or I'd lost the signal.

"Dom, their chopper went down almost half an hour ago. We can't get a hold of any of them, and there aren't any nearby units in the area."

The silence that followed was one I'd always remember. My finger stayed locked at my ear, but I didn't say anything. _Couldn't _say anything. Couldn't even think. All I could do was picture Melanie, alone and dead because I couldn't protect her.

My daughter was halfway around the world, in trouble, and I couldn't do _anything_.

_Fuck_. I straightened and looked at everyone, my eyes pausing at Marcus. He looked angry as hell. And maybe even a little regretful.

"Anya," he said. "Send a Raven to our position for transport."

My mind still numb, I furrowed my eyebrows at him. Transport? To where?

"Right, Marcus," Anya answered, her voice filled with business. "I can get one to you in fifteen minutes. Where will it be taking you?"

Marcus took a breath and squared his shoulders. Now, he was in absolute "Sergeant Fenix" mode. And Sergeant Fenix got shit done, and never left a man behind.

"To wherever the fuck Santiago and her idiot sergeant got shipped out to," Marcus growled, scowling. "There's a chance they're still alive, or at least some of them. We're going to find their squad, and bring them home."

For the second time that day, I felt like someone had lifted a weight off my chest. _She's a tough girl_, I had to tell myself. _She could still be alive. Don't lose hope_.

And even though I already knew how badly it could hurt, I wouldn't stop hoping. Not until I found my girl, and she was safe in my arms. _Hold on, Mel_, I thought, balling my hand into a fist. _I'm coming for you._

* * *

><p><strong>Oh snap. Stuff's going down, yo!...Ugh, sorry about that, I'm just a bit excited. <strong>

**Have any of your questions been answered? Do you have anymore? Do you have an opinion that you cannot wait to get off your chest? Do you just want to say hi? Well then leave a review, my friend! **

**I'd be nothing without everyone's fabulous support! Until next time! :D**


	11. Chapter 11

**My goodness :/ I thought I'd never finish this chapter. More than half of it was forced out of me in the past two days because all I could think was "My GOD I need to update."**

**All this moving and college prep has really taken its toll. Before I knew it, a freaking lifetime had passed by, and then I realized that this chapter wasn't even halfway done. Plus, I've been re-watching an old, favorite show of mine, and every time I actually got the urge to write, I had to force myself to not ramble on about half-demons and giant sword fights. *****Elaborate face palm* Well, it's finally complete. I hope you enjoy reading. Also, at the end of this chapter is an important author's note :) so if you've got the time, give it a read. **

**I'm going to go take a much needed nap now.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eleven: Onward<strong>

**Justin**

I couldn't breathe. I was on my back, and something pressed down on my chest, heavy enough to make breathing a constant struggle. My throat burned. I had to get it off. I had to move it, or I would certainly die.

But my limbs were dead. I couldn't even feel them. I tried opening my eyes, but damn was I exhausted. The thought of moving was instantly chased away by the thought of staying there, unconscious, keeping me still in the darkness.

What happened? Trying to remember anything was as slow and vigorous as swimming through mud. I'd get too tired before I even reached a coherent thought, so I just stopped trying.

_Maybe if I lay here for a little while, the pain will stop. Or someone will find me. Or not._

I don't know how much time passed until I decided to try and open my eyes again, but this time, I was more aware. And I could feel the pain a lot more. There was definitely something on top of me. It was cold and flat. And heavy.

I coughed. _Man_, it hurt to do that. And the pain radiated not only from my lungs, but from my sides. I coughed again. Ouch.

It was nighttime. I could tell by the blackness behind my eyelids, the cool air and the chirps of all kinds of different bugs. Carefully, I tried shifting my body. Grunting with pain, I coughed a few more times before calling it quits. _Crap_, I thought. _What the hell am I supposed to do?_

Very faintly, I heard footsteps. Multiple pairs, seeming to come from all directions.

In a massive wave of panic, I suddenly remembered what had happened. _The Raven, the Reaver, the crash…_My eyes shot open and I shoved against the steel on top of me with all of my strength. It didn't even budge.

It was dark, and my breaths were shallow. I couldn't see anything. I heaved against the metal again, grinding my teeth and squeezing my eyes shut against the pain. The footsteps were getting closer.

_No_. I started scrambling in desperation, water springing from my eyes. My sides hurt so bad. _The Locusts are here. They saw our chopper crash, and they've come to kill who isn't dead already._

My struggles abruptly stopped when I remembered something else.

_Are the others dead? Where are they? Melanie? Oh god, Melanie!_

I began squirming again, with urgency. A sharp, choking pain shot through my torso. Bracing my arms against the steel above me, I heaved with everything I could muster and tried to move out from under it. For a second or so, I was able to move the flat surface just off of my body. But then my arms gave out, and it came right back down. I cried out, my voice strangled and raspy.

Someone near by gave a sharp gasp. A girl. Then the other footsteps ceased.

"Justin?" someone called out. I hacked, trying to clear my throat. I couldn't even speak. "Justin!" she cried again. "Justin, where are you?!"

I went into a raging cough fit, the pain in my chest flaring mercilessly. "M-Mel!" I sputtered out. "Melanie! Over-" cough, cough. "Over here!"

"Oh my God!" I heard her as she scrambled towards me, her breathing rapid. "Hunter! Finn! He's over here, I found him!" Two more sets of steps came running over, both stopping somewhere near my head.

"Come on," Melanie urged. "Let's lift this off. One, two, _three!_"

The heaviness of the flat, steel surface was suddenly lifted from my chest, and I gasped wildly in relief and pain. I began coughing again, and then after I managed to stop, I groaned.

Melanie kneeled down next to my head, panic written on her face. "Oh my God," she said again, a whisper this time. "Justin, look at me. Are you okay? Is anything broken, can you walk?" One of her palms pressed against my cheek, the warmth of it shocking my chilled skin. My eyes wondered around aimlessly, skating across their faces and the dark sky. I was disoriented as hell. My muscles ached.

"He's dehydrated," Finn said in that smooth voice of his. And as the word slipped out, I realized he was right. My mouth was bone dry, and I was so terribly, incredibly thirsty.

"Water," I rasped out, giving another cough. Melanie leaned in close, her ear next to my lips.

"What? What is it?"

"_Water_," I repeated, as clear as I could manage. I braced my arms under myself and tried to sit up, my whole body feeling like it may fall apart.

"Help him up," Melanie told Hunter, and each of them grabbed one of my arms as I sat upright, causing me to grunt and cough a few times in the process. "Here," she said, holding something up near my face. "Drink." She put the canteen to my lips and tipped it forward. The water was warm, but it was wet and clean. I drained the container quickly, upsetting my stomach, but quieting the ache in my throat. My breathing was quick and rapid, but it was a whole lot easier now.

Closing my eyes, I slumped forward a bit, my energy draining from me while relief took its place. I focused on slowing my breathing, calculating each breath as they moved in and out, in and out.

After a moment, I looked back up at everyone, fighting to keep my eyes from drooping closed again. Now that I'd finally gotten a good look at them, they certainly looked almost as bad as I felt. Finn, who at times I thought was indestructible, was covered in abrasions and had a busted lip. A gash over Hunter's right eye bled with persistence. Melanie's hair looked insane, and I could see burn marks scattered across her exposed skin. And all of them shared a dark, black tint of dust that seemed to coat them from toe to scalp.

_Well aren't we an interesting crowd. _

Then something dawned on me, and I furrowed my eyebrows. "Where's Sergeant Decarlo?" I asked, swallowing afterwards. My throat was dry again.

Melanie and Hunter each casted their eyes to the ground. Finn stayed cold and collected, and then he informed me with a nod of his head: "Sergeant Decarlo is dead."

I stared at him for a long time, my face and mind blank. The news should have made me feel something. But the only emotion going through me was shock from the fact that I hardly felt a thing at all.

I looked back down, shook my head, and then muttered, "Well shit."

* * *

><p><strong>Melanie<strong>

We helped Justin up made sure he could still walk before making our way over to the largest area of chopper wreckage, using the massive Raven carcass as temporary shelter. The poor bird was missing all of its rotor blades, and its pilot laid passed out and bleeding next to it, barely hanging onto life. She would die if we didn't do something soon, but honestly, what kind of help were we going to get out here?

Where the fuck were we, anyways?

Justin sat next to our pilot, Martha Carter, and propped his elbow on a raised knee before hanging his head. Martha, who'd muttered her name to me before nodding off, was bleeding from the ears, and deep colored bruises were forming around her ribs and stomach. I was almost positive she had internal bleeding. We did what we could to make her a bit more comfortable, resting her head on a hip pack and using a small, portable thermal blanket to keep her warm. But her lips were slowly turning blue, and shivers racked her body every few minutes. I propped her legs up with another pack to fend off any symptoms of shock, then sat to her right and hoped for the best.

Hunter sat down crossed legged next to me, and we both watched warily as Finn made his way over and kneel next to Martha's head. With a small square of white gauze, he gently placed it against one of her ears and held it there until he acquired an acceptable amount of blood. Then he brought the gauze square close to his eyes and watched, silent and patient.

Nearly a minute ticked by until Finn finally spoke. "Cerebral fluid," he murmured, holding the cloth up for me to see. The splotches of red on the gauze were now bordered by the thinnest line of yellow. "She's experienced head trauma. Even in a hospital she wouldn't have much of a chance."

I hung my head and swallowed back another wave of emotion. I'd expected his answer, but it still hit hard. Our situation was getting more hopeless by the minute. Decarlo had yet to even explain to us the true purpose of our mission, and now he was dead. He'd been flung the furthest from the crash, found meters away from the wreckage with blood seeping from his mouth and a good sized gash on the back of his head. He had been dead when we found him. His tags resided in Finn's pants pocket.

Martha let out a groan, fading in and out of consciousness as she shook against the cold night air. I turned and looked down at her, feeling awful because I couldn't do anything to help.

Martha muttered out another sound, and I leaned down close to her. "What is it, ma'am?" I whispered.

She fought to form words, swallowing and wheezing. "Waste nothing…" she murmured, her voice nearly too dry to understand.

I furrowed my eyebrows and glanced up at Justin. He was listening too, his brows knitted together with concentration. "Waste nothing?" he asked. "What do you mean?"

Martha whimpered and tried clearing her throat. Then she coughed. "They will come," she continued, struggling. "Soon. Less than two days. You've gotta survive-" Coughs smothered her words momentarily. "You've gotta survive until then. Waste nothing. Conserve ammo. Be smart." Martha's eyes slipped closed again, her breathing shallow and feeble. She looked so exhausted.

"Get some rest, ma'am," Justin insisted. "Save your strength."

Martha shook her head, and made a noise that almost sounded like a sarcastic laugh. "There…there will be many of them," she told us, her eyes open again, gazing up at the sky. "Search the Raven for supplies. You'll need it." Then she glanced at me, Justin, Finn and Hunter. "And above all," she continued, closing her eyes again. "You must stick together."

Her words took on a tone of finality, so I leaned back, rolling her advice over in my head. I sat there in contemplation for a while, hands resting on my thighs. I would check on Justin every few minutes, scanning over his face for any signs of discomfort or pain. He only looked pale, dirty and exhausted, just like the rest of us. Martha faded into unconsciousness again. Then eventually, she stopped breathing.

"We can't stay here much longer," Finn told us, shattering the silence with his baritone voice. "It would be best if we continue to move."

I agreed with him completely, but still felt lost. Where would we go? What would we do? Questions burned in my mind, searing away and scrambling my brain. _Think, Mel, think! What do we need to do?_

Dropping Martha's tags into my pocket, I stood from the ground and scanned the Raven's carcass. "Alright, big guy," I muttered, moving towards the wreckage with calculating eyes. "What've you got for me?" A new mission in mind, I began climbing into the chopper with persistence. It was tossed on its side, making things as difficult as possible for me to get up to the side door. A few scraps came loose under my boots, and I stumbled a couple times. But then after some scrappy maneuvering on my part, I was up and over the edge of the Raven door like it was a chain-linked fence. I leapt over the other side, planting my feet back into the dirt as I landed. It felt strange being inside the chopper when it was utterly broken. I gazed around for a moment, taking it all in.

"Be careful, Mel!" I heard Justin shout, and I nodded, taking his words into serious consideration as an exposed electrical wire hissed sparks at me. _Martha said supplies. Anything useful. What all does a Raven hold, exactly? _Hesitantly, I headed towards the back of the wreck, squinting my eyes into the darkness. _Wish I had damn flashlight._

After a few minutes of scavenging around, I'd found a Lancer ammunition box and tons of first aid. But no food, as I'd hoped, and nothing that seemed like it would turn the tides of a difficult battle. Then a crackling of static sounding off behind me, and I whirled with paranoia, my Lancer instantly held at the ready. My breathing seemed so loud to my ears, and I tried desperately to slow it.

"Mel?" Justin called, concern in his voice. "Find anything?"

I didn't dare make any more noise than necessary as I crept forward towards the front of the Raven. Taking careful steps, I narrowed my eyes, willing them to peer through the darkness.

Static crackled again. _"H-llo!...is…cont-" _

I let in a sharp intake of breath, than suddenly scrambled towards the front pit.

"Melanie!" Justin yelled, panic seeping into his tone. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

I gripped the edges of the door leading into the cockpit and hauled myself in, grunting with effort. "The radio!" I shouted. "Someone's trying to contact us! There's a voice on the radio!"

"What?!"

I continued my climb into the front of the chopper, holding onto anything I could grasp as I struggled through the darkness. "Shit," I muttered to myself. "I can't see a damn thing."

There was more static in the air. _"Come i-! Unit…elve, are…there?" _A tiny, red light flashed in the corner of my eye and my head snapped to the side. Reaching forward, I began blindly feeling around along the controls until my hands ran across something bulky and detached from the control board. I grabbed it and brought it up to my chest. It was a headset.

Hesitant and uncertain, I slowly slipped the headset over my ears. With delicate finger, I felt around on the sides until they slid across a small button. I clicked it, then positioned the mouth piece at my lips.

"H-Hello?" I murmured, barely above a whisper.

"_Unit Twelve!" _The woman's voice came in much stronger now. _"This is Control, and I am Lieutenant Stroud. Do you copy?"_

I stared straight ahead, my mouth open as I gaped for a moment. I couldn't believe our luck.

"_Hello? Unit Twelve?"_

I violently shook my head, snapping myself out of it. "Y-Yes! Lieutenant, this is private Melanie Santiago of Unit Twelve! My squad's chopper has crash landed, and our position is unknown."

Static filled my ears, and for a terrible moment I thought the radio might have gone dead again. _"…Private Santiago," _the Lieutenant said, with a strange and surprised tone. _"Copy that, Private. We received your pilot's distress call a few hours ago. How are you able to communicate now?"_

My fingers clutched at the headset mouthpiece. "I'm using the radio in the Raven, ma'am. It's still operational. Um…I haven't checked the tac-com in the last half hour, but it hasn't been working since the crash."

There was another pause. _"Okay, we'll get to work right away on getting them back online. Is your sergeant available for briefing?"_

I bit my lip. "Sergeant Decarlo was killed in the crash. Our pilot, Martha Carter, is also dead."

The line went quiet again. _"You're stranded with no sergeant or higher ranked soldier of any kind?"_

I swallowed nervously at the worry in her voice. "Yes ma'am."

She sighed in exasperation. I thought vaguely for a moment about the fact that I'd never heard an officer from Control show any kind of weakness over the radio before. _"Okay," _the lieutenant continued. _"Private Santiago, I am now naming you acting sergeant of Unit Twelve until other arrangements can be made."_

I coughed a couple times, choking on my own shock. "W-_What?!_" I sputtered out. "Forgive me, ma'am, but that's…that's just _crazy_."

"_I know it may seem like a bit much to take in, but remember, it's only temporary," _she assured me. _"Now I'm going to give you your orders, and then you'll pass them on to the rest of your squad."_

Swallowing again, I nodded. "Okay. Tell me what we need to do."

"_Alright. First things first, let me see if I can trace your position. I have the coordinates from where you were when the distress call was made, so you can't be too far from there. But what's very important is that you _keep moving_._

"_Head east, and don't stray from the course unless you absolutely have to. Hopefully, we can get the radio working so you can inform me if you do. If you stay on this path, Delta will be able to catch up with you and find your squad easily."_

I gasped, a sudden jolt shooting through my chest. "Delta's coming?"

"_Yes. They're on their way via helicopter. Remember how long your trip lasted? It'll take Delta Squad just as long to reach you, maybe even longer if I'm not able to pinpoint your exact position. However long, _your _squad will be on its own until then."_

"After Delta reaches us, what will we do then? Continue the original mission?"

Lieutenant Stroud gave another sigh. _"Unfortunately, those orders have yet to be delivered to me. But let your squad know if you _are_ ordered to continue, even with Delta Squad, it won't be easy."_

"Wait," I said, furrowing my eyebrows as Decarlo's frustrated expression flashed through my mind. "Before our sergeant was killed, he hadn't even briefed us on our mission yet. So…what are we doing out here, exactly?"

Another pause. _"You and your squad were sent out to survey an area that has been untouched by the COG in years. Your mission is to explore, collect data and search for human life. Of course…" _She trailed of, hesitating. _"The exact reason why such young soldiers were picked to be shipped out is what's been causing all kinds of commotion."_

"Commotion?" I echoed, raising an eyebrow.

"_Yes. It's not really my place to say, but…word is, your squad is being treated as…expendable."_

I blinked, unsure I'd even heard her right. "Expendable?!" I screamed, fury and realization striking me simultaneously. "What do you mean _expendable_? Better we die out here then some other squad that's _more important?!_" I instantly felt immature for getting so worked up over the radio, especially while speaking to someone who outranked me by quite a bit. Taking a deep breath, I willed myself to calm down. "Sorry," I muttered, unsure of what else to say.

"_It's okay," _the lieutenant answered. _"I understand where you're coming from, but remember. It's just a rumor, something you can't be distracted by. Your only priority right now is to stay alive and keep moving. Can you do that for me, Private?"_

I told myself I was imagining the concern in her question. "Yes ma'am. Keep moving, stay alive. How hard could it be?"

There was a tense silence, each of us thinking of the answer that no one wanted to imagine. _"Alright. Watch your six, Santiago. Control out." _

* * *

><p><strong>Anya<strong>

My god. She sounded so young over the radio. How old had Hoffman said she was? Eighteen? I tried to picture her, a teenage girl with dark hair and a resemblance to the woman in the picture Dom had pulled out of his pocket so many times in my presence.

Dom had spent many years searching for his wife. And even though the whole world had the right to mourn, no one blamed Dom needing a little time when they heard about what he had to do.

Poor Dom. I knew he hated it when I gave him those sympathetic looks, but sometimes, I just couldn't stop myself.

If anyone deserved happiness, it was undoubtedly him. I wouldn't rest until Delta and Unit Twelve were home safely. Hoffman would understand if I favored them a bit for a few days. Dom had always been one of his favorites.

Standing from my chair, I switched tac-com links and pressed a finger to my ear. "Control to Delta Squad, over."

"_Go ahead, control," _Marcus chimed in. I scooped up a large file of paperwork from my desk and left my office, deciding to walk and talk.

"I've got good news, Marcus," I said as I marched down the hallway towards Hoffman's office. My heels clicked across the linoleum floor. "Most of Unit Twelve survived the crash, Melanie among them. Their pilot and Sergeant Decarlo were killed, though."

Marcus left the line open as he made a low sound in the back of his throat. _"A bunch of kids with no sergeant. Sounds like a recipe for disaster if you ask me."_

I shrugged my shoulders, expecting the answer. "Maybe, but I gave Melanie strict orders and left her in charge. If she's anything like her dad, I'm sure she can handle it."

Marcus made a sound dangerously close to a snort. _"Shit, you left her in charge? Bet she just loved that."_

Pausing outside of Hoffman's door, I tapped it with the toe of my high heel as a knock. "She didn't give me too much trouble about it." I paused, readjusting the heavy file in my arms. "I'm outside Hoffman's office now. I'll see if he's been given anymore details about the mission."

"_Hoffman, huh? And how did the old bastard feel about me commandeering one of his choppers?"_

"Let's just say I had to convince him it was mainly for Dom's sake."

Marcus made another noise. _"He'll get over it. Delta out."_

And just like that, my conversation with Marcus had ended, and Hoffman was opening his door. "Anya," he said simply, then he turned with a tilt of his head, inviting me inside.

"Have you spoken with Prescott?" I asked, eyeing him as he walked over to his desk and poured himself a cup of what looked like watered down coffee. He rubbed a hand over his eyes, looking as old and tired as ever.

"The damn man's still throwing an ego-fit," he grumbled, sipping at his steaming cup of caffeine. Wisps of heat billowed over his nose. "He's already lost one Raven and now he's worried about loosing valuable front-liner's." With a scowl, Hoffman shook his head. "He's not fooling anybody."

I felt the blood drain from my face. "So it's true, then?" I asked, setting the heavy file in my arms onto a nearby table at my hip.

"He'll never come out and say it, but you've been in this long enough to know how he operates." Hoffman sat his coffee on his desk, the corners of his eyes crinkling with stress.

"Sir, if you don't me saying, you look exhausted."

He gave me a knowing gaze. "So do you," he accused.

With a bit of a smirk, I sighed. "Occupational hazard, I suppose. So what should I report to Delta?"

Hoffman rubbed the stubble on his chin thoughtfully. "According to Prescott, the mission is too important to abandon. Delta Squad will be dropped off and once they meet up with Unit Twelve, both squads will continue with the original orders."

I had to stop myself from making a scoffing sound. "Doesn't that sound like a massive waste of time?" I asked. "By the time the Raven gets back, the mission will most likely be complete anyways." Looking down, I bit my lip at as every flaw began piling up in my brain. "But then if the pilot stays there, that's a stagnant Raven that's also in danger. The smartest choice would be to abandon the mission until a better plan can be prepared, or our available resources are improved."

Hoffman merely blinked at me. "Preaching to the choir, kid. Precott's got his reasons, and he's sticking with this one."

Another sigh escaping me, I nodded my head and turned to leave. "Yes sir. I'll give Delta Squad their orders and then begin working on maintaining communication with Unit Twelve." My hand on the doorknob, I raised an eyebrow at him. "And sir? Try and get some sleep."

Laughing once without humor, he turned back to his desk and began shuffling through paper work. "Only after you do, Lieutenant."

Nodding goodbye, I walked into the hall and closed the door behind me. _Sorry, Colonel, _I thought, pressing a finger to my ear and preparing to contact Delta as I made my way back to my office. _Guess you'll have to wait a bit longer then. _

* * *

><p><strong>WARNING. Beware of the long (but necessary) authors note ahead! <strong>

**A bit of an uneventful chapter, but necessary nonetheless. You know what I'm supposed to be doing right now? Sleeping. Because my first day of college is in the morning. **

**Yikes. Wish me luck. **

**A quick question! Now that classes are starting, I'm assuming that getting out chapters in a short amount of time will be (for the lack of a better term) a bitch. So which would you guys prefer? Slightly shorter chapters (I average about 5,000 words/chapter these days, and I'll knock it down to about 4,000) which will ultimately result in faster updates? Or, would you like me to keep the chapter length as it is and just do what I can to get it out? Either way doesn't matter to me. So give me a shout!**

**As always, my beautiful readers. Responses of all kinds are forever and always appreciated! And don't forget, if you've got a POV you want to see, let me know!**

**P.S. I have made a Tumblr! Why is this relevant? Because it will soon be filled with all of my fanfiction goodness (update statuses, writing prompts, fanfic ideas, personal rambling, etc.) The link to it is on my profile. Feel free to follow, and shoot me a message if you came from here! I'll return the following favor!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Yes, this update exists. You can stop pinching yourself now. **

**Enjoy. **

**P.S. The vote was to make the chapters a bit shorter so I could get them out as fast as I could. I know you're probably thinking "Wow, that **_**totally **_**worked out." But I'm rolling with the punches here, okay?**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twelve: Similarities and Tribulations <strong>

**Marcus**

"These people are fucking _lunatics_, Marcus. What the hell do they expect us to do? He's not thinking straight, it's just a fucking _pissing _contest. And my daughter's smack dab in the middle of it!"

Dom was getting worked up again. I didn't blame 'im. I just wished he cool it a little. You never knew what would set Baird off.

"Dom, I _get it_." I told him, trying not to shake my head. "Don't worry. I know it's a big deal, that's why we're flyin' out there. You heard what Anya said, she's fine."

"And in _charge, _baby!" Cole laughed it up for a moment, keeping his eyes anywhere but his puke bag. "_Sergeant _Santiago. I like that sound of that!"

"Yeah well _I _don't," Baird muttered. "I don't like the sound of _any _of this. It's just another way for us to save the day, get _shit _for it, and then end up covered in something slimy during the process."

"Awe, come on, Damon baby. Don't tell me you don't miss that worm!"

Baird visibly shuddered. "I _still _sneeze blood out of my nose every once in a while."

I gave him a level gaze. "Sure it isn't from someone poppin' you in the nose for talking too much?"

He glared, most likely debating whether or not he was in the mood to go down this road. I just looked back.

Dom leaned over in his seat and caught his head in his hands. I looked away from Baird, signaling that we were done. Didn't need Dom getting any more antsier than he already was.

"Stop your worryin', Dom!" Cole said not looking especially too good. "Lil' Santiago can handle herself."

"I _know_," Dom relented, puffing out air. "But you understand it's literally _in my blood_ to worry, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, you deserved the fucking best dad of the year award," Baird snapped, throwing his hands up like a drama queen. "Anyone know where the hell we are?"

I tilted my head towards the Raven door to my right. "Take a look."

Flying over the ocean was never a favorite of any Gear, unless you were a Navy man. Your chopper went down, you were screwed. No better way of putting it. Even if you could get all your armor off, survive the crash _and_ manage to stay afloat, forget about radio contact, and forget about seeing anyone else for a long, long time.

Like I said. It wasn't anyone's favorite hobby flying over water. Not with the Locusts lurking around every damn corner. And if I managed to learn anything from this experience, it was that Prescott was a bigger asshole than I gave him credit for.

Everyone went quiet for a while after that other than the sound of Cole hurling his guts out. Baird couldn't wipe the disgusted sneer off his face, but he stayed next to him. He knew the consequences of sitting next to Cole on a chopper ride.

We'd been flying for long time. Anya told me it wouldn't be long until we could contact Unit Twelve via radio, which would be a hell of a lot of help. I couldn't even imagine what Dom was probably cooking up in his mind. He'd probably come up with a thousand ways for his daughter to die before we even touched the land.

And, if we're being honest, these kids were in deep shit. I knew as soon as I heard Decarlo muttering about "uncharted territory" and "experimental exploration," that something wasn't right. Prescott had never thought hard about morals when it came to making his decisions, so why would he change now?

He sure as hell wouldn't be happy with us once we picked up Melanie's squad and started heading home. But they wouldn't get shit for it, Anya wouldn't get shit for her help, and Dom wouldn't get shit for trying anything he could to save his kid.

Nope. It would all come back to me. I made the order for the chopper, and I was the one dragging my squad out into uncharted waters. So if anything went wrong, then it was on my head.

And hell. I'd be lying if I said I gave a shit.

* * *

><p><strong>Melanie <strong>

"This place gives me the creeps, Mel," Hunter said, bringing up the rear of the group with his Lancer nervously gripped in his hands. "Are you sure the Lieutenant said to keep moving?"

I rolled my eyes and tried not to groan. "Yes, Hunter. That's exactly what she said. If I could get the damn radio to work, I'd let her tell you herself."

Geez. When was he finally going to grow the hell up? I didn't enjoy wondering around ruins at sundown anymore than he did. But I kept going, didn't I? I guess complaining wasn't really a luxury the acting sergeant got to exercise.

I nearly gave a shudder. Yikes. Acting sergeant. I still couldn't wrap my head around it even though the title had been given to me nearly eleven hours before.

And when I said ruins, that's exactly what I meant. You could hardly even call the surrounding area remains, because hardly_ anything_ remained at all. The hammer strikes had done their work thoroughly here. Everything had a coating of a fine, charcoal colored dust, including our faces. Every few minutes I would cough up something black into my hands, and with a scowl, I'd suddenly remember Jefferson and his annoying, nasally voice. "You should really keep your helmet on," he'd say. "It filters the air you breathe. When will you idiots realize that?"

A shot through his skull would have shut him up. Literally. Then maybe he would have finally realized why we didn't bother wearing the damn things anymore.

"I wonder why we haven't run into any Locust yet," Justin mused aloud. "Maybe the Hammer really did wipe 'em out."

Before I could mutter a "not likely," Finn beat me to the punch. "No," he stated, his voice emotionless. "Our visit is unexpected. They will wait until they realize we're the only people here. Once they know it's just us, then they will attack."

Only Finn could give you such a sense of doom in one sentence. But I was once again thankful for his insightfulness.

"And…when they _do _realize it's only us?" Hunter asked, his voice raising up an octave.

Finn continued to stare straight ahead. "There will be many."

It took everything in my power to not turn and run back to the chopper wreckage. For some reason, I felt that if I just stayed there with the wreck and hid while we waited for Delta, then everything would be okay. I didn't _want _to keep moving forward, like Lieutenant Stroud had instructed. I wanted to bunker down, cover my head and hope for the best.

Why did the Lieutenant make me acting sergeant? Finn would have been a much better candidate. By far. Surely _he_ wasn't thinking of running away at a time like this.

"Don't lose hope yet, guys," I heard myself say, needing a bit of false encouragement. "We'll only need to hold them off until back up arrives. We don't necessarily have to go looking for the Locust and engage them."

Justin looked over at me for a moment before dropping his gaze to the floor. "Something tells me we won't have much of a choice," he muttered.

Hunter nodded urgently. "Yeah, plus we don't know our way around this place. They could pop out from anywhere."

"Running will be a challenge," Justin agreed, his gaze aimed at the sky. "And we also need to think about the possibility of an ambush."

"Crap, if we get ambushed, we don't stand a chance!" Hunter exclaimed, nearly on the verge of a panic fit, and I pictured myself slapping him in the face.

I intelligently chose a different method.

"Hey!" I barked, whirling around to face the rest of my squad, my glare mainly addressing Hunter and Justin. "I get it, okay? We're in a shitty situation, and there's no better way of putting it. So instead of complaining and pointing out all the god damn negatives, could you two just stop for a minute and be thankful you're still _alive_? What about Decarlo and Carter, don't you remember them? At least we're not six feet under." I quickly turned my back to them again, unable to handle the intense guilt suddenly written all over Justin's face. This is what a sergeant had to do, right? How could I even hope to get my squad out alive when all I could do was second guess myself?

"She's right," Finn asserted, low and even. "Complaining and worrying get us nowhere. We need to think of a strategy."

Stopping my walk and turning to face them again, I could have hugged Finn in that moment if I didn't know he'd find it completely and utterly ridiculous. So I simply nodded at him, thanking him with my eyes. "Yes, exactly," I agreed. "There are only four of us. So once the Locust attack-"

I stopped speaking abruptly when I felt a series of sudden and violent shudders in the ground beneath my feet, the quakes almost intense enough to chatter my teeth. Startled, I thought, _This doesn't make any sense_. Locust movement underground caused soft tremors at first, and then grew in magnitude. But this was like an earthquake, nearly tangent enough to knock me off my feet.

"What the hell's going on?!" Justin shouted over the rumble.

Shaking my head, I turned from them to look up the street. "I don't know, just take cover!"

"Where?!" Hunter pleaded.

"And from _what?!_" followed Justin.

"Just _go!_" I ordered, exasperated beyond belief as I gave each of them a violent shove and ran for cover myself. "Fucking hell, people!"

We all scattered, spreading out along the street automatically with our Lancers raised. Whatever was coming wouldn't take us down without a fight.

Then, the ground erupted, and out shot the Locust, three shooting into the air, and others following afterwards as they crawled up and out of their holes.

"_Fire!_" I roared, the instinct of battle immediately taking over. I glared down the sight of my Lancer. And then the firefight began.

* * *

><p><strong>Dom<strong>

_Just a few more hours, just a few more hours, just a few more hours, JUST A FEW MORE HOURS-_

"Dom," Marcus barked, a low order in the back of his throat. I gave him a questioning glance, and realized that he was watching my right knee. Glancing down myself, I observed for a moment as it anxiously bounced up and down. Gritting my teeth together, I stopped.

"Sorry," I murmured, running both hands over my face for the thousandth time that day. I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes, avoiding Marcus's gaze while he tried to pick my mind. I didn't know why he kept trying. He knew what I was thinking about.

My ass had gone completely numb from sitting for so long. The others had taken turns dozing off every once in a while, but I just couldn't do it. Anytime I kept my eyes closed for too long, she'd pop into my mind, either in the form of a memory, or a vivid nightmare.

My eyes opened back up, and I decided to stare at the chopper ceiling instead.

"I don't have to worry about you doing anything stupid, do I?" Marcus asked, keeping his voice low as he slipped a look over at Cole and Baird. They were both hunched over, heads hanging between their elbows, sound asleep.

"Depends on what you mean by stupid," I answered honestly.

Marcus narrowed his eyes. "Dom…" he warned, his voice dangerous.

"What?" I snapped, a few strings in my brain finally breaking under the stress. "_What_, Marcus? Quit looking at me like I'm going crazy, because I'm not. Alright," I paused, sitting up straight to face him. "I'm not an idiot, okay? I've got things under control. Yeah, I'll admit. I got bad after Maria. _Real _bad. I just couldn't make myself give a shit. But now, I've _got _a reason to give a shit. Melanie's _here _and _alive_. My own flesh and blood. I'm not gonna go off and take on a horde of Locust by myself because I've finally got something to keep me…_grounded _again." I took a deep breath, my blood simmering with all the emotions I'd been keeping bottled up. Then after a moment, I leaned back into my seat, and aimed my gaze once again at the ceiling. "So just chill, alright?" I said, suddenly feeling exhausted enough to actually get some sleep in. I let my eyes slip closed.

Marcus went quiet for a while, like he didn't even hear a word I said. But he did. He always did. Now he was just processing, thinking about that one phrase he'd say that would sum up his entire response in one go.

A couple more minutes ticked by, and then Marcus relaxed next to me, sitting back in his seat a bit more. "About time you pulled your head out of your ass," he said, and I felt him shift and cross his arms.

My eyes still closed, I scowled. "Whatever," I muttered, kicking the side of his boot.

Neutrally, he told me, "Get some sleep."

Grumbling to myself, I turned from him begrudgingly. "_You _get some sleep," I retorted childishly. And then I finally relaxed into a nap.

* * *

><p><strong>Melanie<strong>

"No, Hunter! Left. _Left. _Argh, do I need to write it in the fucking dirt for you?!"

"I'm sorry!" he blurted, a few yards ahead of me, reloading his weapon. "It's hard to move up when they're-_ah!_" He sunk down and made himself smaller, avoiding a new barrage of fire pelting off the top of his cover. "When they're coming at me from _all over the place_."

"Hunter, you have to trust me!" I shouted while standing up straight and quickly dropping two Locusts. "We need someone to close up the holes! _You _move up, and the rest of us will cover you!"

Hunter looked from side to side, hugging his Lancer and observing as Justin and Finn each moved forward simultaneously, one at his left and one at his right.

"Go on!" Justin urged, yelling over the roar of the fight. "The faster, the better!"

"I agree," Finn grunted, the closest to agitated he'd ever be.

Hunter shot glances at each of them again, and then threw one over his shoulder, gazing down the street. More Locusts were emerging from the ground.

"_Move it_, Abel!" I ordered. "Or I'll shoot you myself!" That must have got the fire burning, because he leapt up from cover, Lancer raised and firing while he charged towards the enemy.

"Don't let them touch him!" I shouted at the others, emptying a clip, reloading, and then emptying it again. "Push 'em back!"

The Locusts were dwindling now, hesitating before climbing out of their emergence holes to face us. But they still continued, a steady and persistent flow. "Move up!" I commanded, standing and sprinting forward with Justin and Finn at my sides. Hunter was further up, crouched behind a slab of concrete, a frag grenade in his right palm. "Hurry, Hunter!" I ordered. "We're burning daylight!"

He gave a stiff nod, then launched the first frag into the air. It landed to the right of the closest hole, exploding and sending debris into the air. He managed to close one opening, and take out two Locusts with it. Then, with a confident grin, he stood and grasped his last frag, swinging its chain before flinging that one too. It sunk right the down middle of the other hole. Exploding, the blast sealed up the opening, making it cave in on itself. Taking out the last few Locusts was a breeze.

"Wooh!" I exclaimed in a very Cole-like manner, raising my Lancer into the air. "Round one complete!" Justin turned and gave me a look like I'd gone insane, and approached me with his hands raised in caution.

"Good god, woman," he said sarcastically. "Maybe you should have sat that one out."

I didn't even respond to his teasing, I was so fired up. My adrenaline still raced, and I found myself having trouble with making the instant transmission from "kill or be killed" to absolute stillness. All that mattered was that we'd survived the first attack. My squad was alive, and no matter what anyone else said about them, they were rock stars.

"Holy _crap_, guys!" Hunter said, running up to us while grinning from ear to ear. "Did you freaking _see _that? It worked like a charm! Who knew, right?"

I shot him a glare as he stopped in front of us. "_I _knew, you idiot!" I said, giving his shoulder a shove. "Listen the first time around from now on, got it? Geez, have a little faith! In me, _and _in yourself."

Hunter just kept grinning, like it was all a training exercise and he'd just won a gold star. Finn joined us too, his expression back to its normal cold calmness, like he'd never had a doubt in the first place. Nothing could ruin the mood now. We'd finally got a fresh whiff of real hope, and it filled our lungs and helped keep our heads held high.

"That wasn't half bad," Justin commented, swaggering around in a teasing way like he was the best in the world. "I could do this all day."

I snorted and began checking my Lancer for kinks. "Yeah, be careful what you wish for. Your enthusiasm may be limitless, but ammo doesn't last forever. I still want to lay low for a while, at least until the radios are fixed."

"So same plan as before?" Hunter asked, not nearly as unenthused as he'd been earlier.

I nodded, smacking a fresh cartridge of ammo into my weapon. "Yep," I answered. "If we keep this up, it won't be all that ba-"

"_BOOM!_"

A blast of fire suddenly erupted only a few yards in front of us, and we all dove backwards to land on our stomachs. A new series of scrapes burned my arms and palms.

My good mood vanished. "Son of a _bitch_," I hissed, pounding a fist against the concrete. "That's it! I'm _never_ speaking again! Because every time I do, I'm fucking cut off by-"

"_BOOM!_"

"Run!" Justin shouted, and we all stood and scattered wildly, the Boomer's shot connecting with where we'd just previously sat.

Hunter began shooting, spilling an ammo clip into the beast's torso within seconds. "Wait!" I cried, holding up a hand. "Hold your fire!"

Immediately, Hunter stopped, and then he shot me a crazed look. "Uh, do you want to _die_?" he asked.

"Just _wait,_" I repeated, and then I took off towards the right side of the street, ordering them to "come on!" as I beckoned them with a wave of my hand. The Boomer fired off another missile, searing a spot of concrete.

We all piled behind the remains of what used to be a concrete wall, its jagged edges just high enough to allow us to stand. "Alright," I began, my back flat against the wall as I peaked out around the corner. "Boomers obviously have a lot of fire power, but they're also dumb as dirt. So all we have to do is outsmart it." I turned to look at them, all lined up in a row with their eyes locked on me. They seemed to agree.

"Also," I said, holding up a finger and narrowing my eyes at Hunter. "We have to remember to _conserve ammo_. This thing's too big and its skin is way too tough. We don't have the resources to just go firing at it until it drops."

They all nodded in agreement, and then Hunter furrowed his eyebrows. "Then what _should _we do?" he asked.

I turned away from them, and looked back at the street. The Boomer was stomping towards us, growing closer and closer to our small patch of building ruins. Then, scanning the area around us, my eyes caught something, triggering an idea.

A fire escape, still connected to the side of the only two remaining walls of an old apartment building. The brick of the two perpendicular walls looked like they were crumbling, but the ladder to the fire escape was down, and it looked sturdy enough. All I needed was a distraction, and then I could put my plan into play.

"Alright!" I said, turning back around to my squad. "You three, spread out and divide its fire. Shoot, but don't go crazy, and only aim for its _legs_." I glanced back at the street real quick to gage the distance of the fire escape to the street. "Keep him occupied, and make sure he stays close to _that _building," I pointed. "I've got a plan to take this thing down, but you guys have got to do what I told you. Got it?"

Justin and Hunter gave each other a look, certainly contemplating my sanity. But they all followed the order, and took off, finding more cover along the street. I stayed put in my spot, watching the Boomer as it approached.

My squad began firing, aiming only for his legs like I'd ordered. And just like I thought he would, the Boomer changed its course, and instead began walking towards them, forgetting about my spot completely. They hovered towards my building of choice, keeping the Boomer near. Things were moving perfectly for once.

"Alright, big guy," I murmured to myself, revving my Lancer chainsaw. Let's see what you've got for me."

I ran from my spot behind cover, keeping out of the open the best I could. For this to work, the Boomer's attention needed to be completely on my squad.

The building I needed to get to was only a sprint away, and Justin had positioned himself perfectly, crouched behind a tiny, old car that sat directly under the fire escape. I took off towards him, using all of my speed to get me to the car unnoticed.

I slowed only just before I reached Justin, whirling and slamming my back against the car next to him. He jumped, startled, and gave me another crazed and questioning look.

Pausing momentarily in his shooting, he rose a worried eyebrow at me. "I don't have to worry about you doing any stupid, do I?" he asked.

I shrugged, casually, and glanced upwards at the fire escape. "Depends on what you mean by stupid," I answered, looking back down to him with an excited grin.

Justin stared at me for a moment, shifted his eyes up to the fire escape, and then brought them back to me. "Wait a second…" he said, eyes widening with realization.

I leapt from my cover, and with the help of the car, I climbed up and grasped the bottom peg of the fire escape ladder with both hands. Then, grunting with effort, I managed to pull myself up and begin my ascend.

"Melanie!" Justin called from below. "No way! _Nuh uh, _you're gonna get yourself killed!"

I ignored him and climbed, reaching the top of the ladder quickly and heaving myself up onto the metal platform. It groaned a bit, and rocked with my weight.

"Uh oh," I muttered to myself, steadying my balance. "Better hurry this up."

Crouching low, I crept to the edge of the platform and peaked over the edge. Just as planned, the Boomer was making his way closer, only a few steps away from standing directly under me, occasionally firing at the others. The dumb thing had terrible aim. And it had yet to spot me.

"A little closer," I whispered. "Come on, you big son of a bitch."

"_BOOM!_" the thing thundered, sending a missile straight towards Finn. He managed to dive out of the way and take cover again. The Boomer continued to stomp forward, heavy footsteps pounding on the ground.

As it neared closer, I positioned myself at the very edge of the metal platform, my hands gripping the bars of the gate that stood around it. Holding my breath, I put a slight bend in my knees, and readied my Lancer at my right.

Just as the Boomer took his final step that put him in a perfect position, the metal beneath me screeched, then lurched, bending forward and nearly tossing me over the edge head-first. I caught myself with my left hand, gripping onto the steel gate as tight as I could. "Shit!" I muttered, my heart racing in my ears.

The Boomer slowly turned his big head, taking his gaze away from my squad and turning it upward. Its black gaze landed straight on me, his sharp, jagged teeth gnashed together in a snarl. I stared back, eyes narrowed, finally caught.

The Boomer pivoted his massive feet to turn towards me, and before his weapon was raised, I was moving. I lifted myself up, bracing one foot against the top bar of the metal gate. Then, in one swift motion, I brought my Lancer up, gripped it with both hands, started the chainsaw and jumped out, into midair, directly over the Boomer's head.

My squad ceased firing. The Boomer faced me. And then I landed, hard, straight onto the monster's shoulders.

* * *

><p><strong>Holy hell, that took forever. But this chapter actually turned out way better than I thought it would, at least in my opinion. Next chapter is when shit <strong>_**really **_**hits the fan, so you know. Stay tuned and whatnot. **

**Thank you, again, to everyone for the lovely support so far :) It's been rough with college draining the life from me, but you all keep me going! Hope you enjoyed reading, please leave a review! **

**P.S. Does the scene that I ended with sound familiar to anyone? :) Let me know if does!**

**P.P.S. Did I completely and utterly fail at writing Marcus's point of view, or what? Because that's what took me so god damn long :/**


	13. Chapter 13

**I live. **

**In other news, my first semester of college is complete. Huzzah! I love taking a break for the holidays. **

**Enjoy.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Thirteen: Hero <strong>

**Justin**

As I stood straight up from my position on the ground, I thought my heart was going to beat right out of my chest. Safety be damned, I was out in the open, wide-eyed, watching as Melanie fell hard onto the Boomer's shoulders.

She let out a roar, her chainsaw rolling. Bringing the blade down, she dug it deep into the Boomer's skin, where the monster's short neck met its shoulder. The Boomer hissed and screamed, dropping its heavy weapon to the ground and trying to reach Melanie with its massive, bulky arms. As the Boomer whirled and bucked, Melanie was tossed around, being forced to momentarily stop her chainsaw and wrap and arm around the monster's head. But then she steadied herself, and brought her blade back down on the other side.

"_Melanie!_" I shouted in disbelief, moving around the car in front of me and sprinting towards the Boomer. Then I threw a desperate look over my shoulder at the others. "Come on!" I called, waving them over with a hand as I ran.

Blood coated Melanie all over, and she looked nearly unrecognizable, a sheer image of war. As me and the others neared, the Boomer suddenly lost the will to struggle, its knees going limp beneath it. Its large arms dropped loose to its sides, and then it began falling forward.

"Shit!" Melanie screamed, her arms suddenly flailing. "Shit, shit, _shit-"_

The Boomer fell straight on its front, bringing Melanie down with it. As the Boomer landed with a loud thud, Melanie was hurled forward, her Lancer clattering to the ground before she did. She landed rough, letting out a cry as her feet hit the ground first, then her knees, then her shoulder, and then she rolled, stopping on her back about five feet away.

"Mel!" I called, slowing down as I grew closer. Melanie was still, her eyes squeezed shut.

"Mel," I said again, dropping my Lancer and kneeling down next to her. "Melanie. Melanie? Look at me, Mel." Bending over, I grasped her shoulders and pulled her up, brushing hair out of her face that had been caked on by blood.

"Hey," I murmured, giving her a small shake. "Mel, come on. Can you hear me?"

She came around after a moment, groaning with annoyance. "My god," she muttered, her eyes still closed. "That was coolest moment of my entire military career."

Putting a hand to my face, I suddenly laughed, slightly delirious with relief. I heard Finn and Hunter jog up behind me, and I turned around to look at them.

"Hey, think it's a good idea to do a quick survey? Make sure there isn't anything else waiting for us to drop our guard?" I glanced back down at Melanie, her eyes open now, tired and staring at the sky. "I think she's down for the count, at least for the next few minutes."

Finn and Hunter gave each other a glance, nodding in confirmation. "Yep," Hunter said. "You wake her up. We'll go do a quick search." They each went around Melanie and me, lightly jogging further up the street.

"Did I get it?" Melanie croaked, and I looked down at her with a smirk.

"Uh, yep," I answered, still in shock as I gave a cautious glance at the dead Boomer a few feet from us. It was in a pool of its own blood now, face down and unmoving. "You got it." Then I turned back to try and give her my best furious look, my shaking voice deluding its full affect. "What the hell were you thinking, woman?" I demanded. "That was the craziest damn thing I've ever seen. You could have gotten hurt. Or _killed_. Or-" I stopped abruptly, shaking my head at her, incredulous. "Don't you have any self preservation at all?"

Melanie braced her palms flat on the ground and sat up by herself, ignoring my questions completely. I kept a hand on her shoulder just incase.

"Pipe down," she groaned, squinting with effort as she leaned forward. "We're supposed to be conserving ammunition. I got the job done, didn't I?"

I puffed out a breath of air, and then exasperation set my lips back into a thin line. "Conserving ammo doesn't mean anything if you're dead," I told her, glaring. "It's like you've got some sort of hero complex. You think that if there's a problem, you need to be the one to solve it. The _only _one."

"What's so bad about that?" she asked, irritation clear on her face. She didn't understand why I was getting so worked up.

And frankly, neither did I.

"What's so _bad_?" I questioned accusingly, my frustration picking up speed and momentum. "You, haphazardly throwing all conservation to the wind. Taking on Boomers by yourself. Repeatedly hopping onto the backs of Locust. _That _is bad."

Melanie rolled her eyes and stood slowly, leaving me there on the ground and scowling down at me with her hands on her hips. She was a wild site, narrowed eyes and ruffled hair. Her armor still dripped with blood that wasn't hers, and up her neck, smudging to her cheeks, it began to dry and flake. "Honestly, Justin," she said, raising an eyebrow judgmentally. "Since when are you such a kill joy? We should be celebrating. Not arguing." Then, she held out a hand as a peace offering. "Now come on. Let's go catch up with Hunter and Finn."

Begrudgingly, I accepted her hand, also slick with blood, and let her help me up. But then I squeezed her fingers tight when she tried to release me. Leaning in close, I narrowed my eyes at her, showing that she had yet to be forgiven.

"You're still crazy," I said, glowering.

She tugged at her hand. "So I've heard," she muttered.

"I'm still mad."

"Can't imagine why."

_You and me both. _

Sighing, I felt my expression soften with defeat. "Whatever," I murmured, still gripping her fingers. "Let's just go."

"Will you tell me what's really bothering you later?" she asked, gazing up at me with those dark, intelligent eyes. She knew me a bit too well, sometimes even more than I knew myself.

"Sure," I said with little promise in my voice, not really a lie, and not really a truth. "Later."

Looking unconvinced, she simply accepted my answer before pulling her hand from mine and jogging ahead, unfazed by my cynicism and ready for another round of battle.

As I watched her put distance between us, I suddenly felt an impending pressure weigh down on my shoulders. Like I knew I should be worried, and I knew something was coming. But I didn't know why, and I didn't know what. The weight pushed down heavily, crushing me more and more with each second. Something tugged in my chest, an unusual and unfamiliar feeling that left nothing but an empty ache behind.

Melanie suddenly stopped jogging and turned around, a confused smirk turning her lips. "You coming or what?" she called out, the smirk extending to a smile that looked out of place, surrounded by dirt and crimson.

Shaking my head, I forced down my emotions, swallowing them like a lump in my throat. Then I gripped my Lancer with both hands and caught up with her, glaring viciously at the Boomer corpse as I passed.

* * *

><p><strong>Baird<strong>

This was borderline insane. Senseless. Fuck, psychotic even. Where was the logic in this plan? The utilization? Hell, what was the fucking point? The whole goddamn thing was bound to crash and burn right from the start.

And who gets to clean up the mess? Yep. You guessed it. Me. Me and my idiot followers.

God fucking damn it.

The Raven steadied, hovered in mid air, and then lowered to the ground. I stood and scowled down at Cole's sick form. Give him an army of Locust or a burning world and he takes it in stride. Put him in a helicopter and he fucking falls apart.

"That's fucking gross," I told him when he tried to haphazardly seal up his puke bag. "You're sitting next to Fenix on the way back."

"That's what you always say," Dom muttered, him and Marcus standing while we crept closer to the ground. "But then you sit down next to him anyways."

"Only because it's still better sitting next to your martyring ass," I retorted.

Marcus already had that _kill me now _look going. "I will turn this chopper _around_," he grumbled, stepping between me and Dom before we got too far into it.

It was just too easy getting a rise out of Santiago. I couldn't help myself.

The Raven touched down, and we all piled out, Cole slowly recovering as he brought up the rear. I scowled at him. "Feeling alright, _honey_?" I sneered sarcastically. Cole sniffed loudly, vigorously shook his head, and just like that, the sheen of sickness disappeared from his features.

"Feelin' good as new!" he said, his super-star grin stretched out as he started bouncing from foot to foot. "There ain't a bug in the world that can keep the Cole Train down, Locust _or _the flu."

"The flu?" I accused, raising an eyebrow.

"Call it whatever, baby," he said, clapping me on the back before walking forward. Grumbling to myself, I followed.

Fenix and Santiago were behind us, Santiago waiting like a freaking puppy dog as Fenix called out a couple more orders to the pilot. Then they both jogged over, and the Raven took to the air, rising up and leaving us for good.

"Anyone else smell the doom in the air?" I asked, watching the Raven disappear.

Fenix glanced over his shoulder a bit, the chopper's leave not fazing him. "Don't worry, I told him to stay close by. We won't be long here."

"Bet Prescott will love you for that," I muttered. And then I almost followed up with a comment about him making a habit out of not following orders. Almost.

"Alright, let's get this show on the road," Santiago said, stepping forward while his eyes scanned the trees. "We should probably find the wreckage and then go from there, right?"

Fenix nodded. "It shouldn't be far from here." He began walking forward, expecting us to follow. "These trees will thin out soon, too. That'll bring us to the main road."

"_Man_, it's quiet out here," Cole said, giving a shudder. "That creepin' anyone else out?"

"Tell me about it," Santiago muttered, his head on a swivel. "The sooner we get out of here the better." Then his eyes widened and he turned them back to his BFF. "Has Anya made any progress with the radio transmissions?"

Fenix nodded absentmindedly, then stuck a finger to his ear as he dialed in to his girlfriend. I just started walking forward, getting more restless by the second.

"What's got your undies in a wad, Damon?" Cole asked, eyeing me with a dark stare. I glared back. _Don't try and empathize, you bastard. _

"I like to _know_ things," I said, jabbing a finger at the side of my head. "That's how I survive. And that's also how I help _you _idiots survive. But this? This whole fucked up trip into the wilderness? Let's just say it's not sitting too well in my stomach."

Suddenly, the universe decided to fuck with my mind, and there was a blast. It was far off in the distance, too far for us the feel the vibration. But close enough to rumble the air and send debris flying over the treetops.

I scowled. "Ten bucks says that's them."

Marcus, finger still in his ear, waved an arm at us. "Let's move it, Delta," he ordered, taking off in a run towards the trees with Santiago close on his heels. Following with Cole, I assumed there was no longer a reason to find the damn wreckage if we knew where the idiots were.

Ugh. Why was I stuck on the squad always running _towards _the goddamn explosions?

* * *

><p><strong>Melanie<strong>

I turned my nose up in disgust, making a noise. "Egh! I smell awful! What the hell are Locust made of anyways?" As we continued to walk, the blood that coated me was drying now, sticky and potent. Anytime I got a good whiff of it, it sent me reeling, the dizzying odor wretched. "_Egh!_" I cried again. "It's everywhere! I can't even wipe my face!"

Hunter snickered at me, attempting to cover it up with the back of his hand when I sent a glare his way. Finn, prepared as ever, reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a small rag and offered it to me.

"_Yes_," I gushed, overly excited when I snatched it from his hand and brought it straight to my face. "Thank you, thank you, _thank you_." I began to scrub at my face vigorously, going a bit overboard. When I pulled the rag back, it was completely soiled, coated in dirt and blood. Still unsatisfied, I pulled out my canteen and wet the rag with water, spilling some on my arms and scrubbing once again.

"Good _lord_, woman," Justin said, eyeing me with false fear and caution. "You really _have _gone feral. Now Hunter can go to town."

"_Sweet_!" Hunter laughed, pumping two victory fists into the air.

I wadded up the filthy, soaked rag and hurled it at Hunter's face. It made contact with a wet slap.

"Don't you _dare_ call me that," I accused, jabbing a finger at him. "Do it again and I'll snap your neck."

Disgusted with the rag, Hunter hurriedly plucked it from his skin with two fingers and tossed it back. "Ew! Geez, it's just a joke!"

I caught the rag, wadding it up in my hand again before shoving it into a pocket. "That's what you _get_," I sneered childishly, sticking out my tongue.

"It's an accurate nickname though…" Justin drawled quietly, the words slipping out as though her were trying to tip toe them around me.

It didn't work. "_What_?" I hissed, ignoring Hunter's smirk. I looked Justin over once, his calm demeanor annoying me. "What's that supposed to mean? Don't make me hit you with the rag, too."

Justin held up his hands in defense. "It's not supposed to mean anything."

My teeth began to grind together. "It obviously meant something, or else you wouldn't have _said _it."

Justin, lips sealed tightly together, was trying his hardest not to look smug. "Someone's angry today. Wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, _feral_?"

My annoyance suddenly burned into rage. "Cut it _out_!" I snapped. "You know how much I hate that!" What was he teasing me for, anyways? That wasn't his style. And he _knew _how I felt about that idiotic nickname.

"Alright, I'm sorry," Justin relented, shaking his head in disbelief at my behavior. "But childish or not, Hunter's got a point. You act differently on the battlefield."

"In what _way_?" I demanded, fuming. "I act like this all the time!"

Both Justin and Hunter gave me a look that clearly said _Are you kidding me? _

Huffing, I turned from them to stare off at a distant building. "Whatever," I muttered. "Who cares how I act as long as I get the job done?"

Giving a small laugh, Justin walked closer to touch my arm. "No one said it was a bad thing," he murmured, his softer tone forcing me to turn back and look at him. Staring at him momentarily, I took the gesture as an apology and sighed. I _was _acting strange.

"Okay, I get it," I admitted, dropping my eyes to the ground. "But I'm a teenage girl who's gone two days without sleep or a shower. Cut me some slack, here."

Justin snorted and gave me a light shove. "Oh, that's _right_!" he joked. "You're _female._ I couldn't tell with all that blood covering up your frilly features."

Allowing the verbal jab, I gave him a warning glance and mumbled "Don't call me frilly…"

Suddenly, there was a crackling in my ear; a sharp, airy hiss of static. Furrowing my eyebrows, I stopped walking and put a hand to my ear. "Are you guys picking that up?" I asked, giving them all a questioning glance.

"Actually, now that you mention it…" Justin pressed a finger to his ear as well. "Yeah, definitely. Do you have the line open?"

Staring at nothing, I nodded as I continued to listen. "Yeah, I've had it open ever since we left the chopper. The Lieutenant asked me to keep it that way."

"Then she must be trying to patch through, right?" Hunter asked, stepping forward with hope in his eyes. "It's been forever. She must have figured out something by now."

Finn, staring at the ground, also listened in, expression contemplative. "Don't forget how far away from home base we are," he murmured. "Before achieving a connection they must first strengthen the signal. Instead of using another available signal, they have to reach us with one."

Walking forward slowly, I pressed the small button in my ear, eyes casted skyward. "This is Sergeant Santiago of Unit Twelve," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Can anyone hear me?"

The line went silent, and then the airy static popped again.

I took a breath and tried again. "I repeat. This is Santiago of Unit Twelve. Is there anyone there?"

I was answered with not the voice of the Lieutenant, but by ammunition, whizzing by my head and pelting off a nearby building.

"_Get down!_" Justin commanded, and we all did automatically, spreading out along the street. As I took cover behind a slab of concrete surrounded by barbed wire, I suddenly felt tremors in the ground. Throwing a glance over my shoulder, I watched as a line of drones charged towards us, and the street cave in on itself at multiple spots behind them.

"Open fire!" I ordered, squeezing the trigger on my Lancer and sending a spray of bullets across their front line. The drones were moving at an alarming pace, those who managed to escape my fire sprinting at us with rage in their eyes. Fingers trembling, I willed my body to rely on adrenaline alone, and I reached for the shotgun at my back.

"Fuck," I whispered, panic seeping in. I jumped from my spot, ready to fall back. Up the street, drones crawled out of their holes, roaring and charging like the others.

"What the hell?!" Justin shouted from somewhere behind me. "What's the fucking rush all of a sudden?"

A bold drone raged its way at me, not even bothering to raise its weapon as it gnashed its teeth and hurdled over the barrier I'd previously used. Widening my stance, I gripped my shotgun firmly before pulling the trigger. The kickback was more violent than I'd remembered, jerking my shoulder back and throwing off my shot. The drone took a blow to the leg, roaring as it stumbled. I shot forward immediately, my boot connecting with its stomach. The drone fell backwards hard, and I was more prepared for the shotgun kickback when I obliterated the Locust with another shot.

"Melanie, to your right!" Justin called, and my head snapped up. Five or six drones had started to flank, closing in fast. I quickly abandoned my barrier to sprint left, swiftly sliding in next to Hunter, maneuvering myself behind his blockade. My hair caught in more barbed wire, and I cussed as I loaded my shotgun with shells.

"Shit," I hissed, shaking fingers dropping a shell to the ground. "We may have to fall back. There are too many."

Hunter popped up over the barrier to empty an ammo clip before sinking back down next to me. "You really think so?" he asked, shouting over the firefight and reloading his Lancer.

A frag grenade exploded, far too close for comfort. I yelped loudly and covered my head with my arms against the flying debris.

"_Definitely_," I answered, swapping my shotgun for my Lancer. Then I cautiously rose up from cover, eyes scanning across the battlefield.

We wouldn't last much longer, not without having to flee. Finn had been right about the numbers. Now that they knew it was just us, the Locust were _swarming_, closing in at a rapid and alarming pace. I counted a dozen at first glance, then fifteen, then twenty. We were dropping them quickly, but not quick enough. With each drone that dropped, two more emerged and took its place.

As I desperately fired, killing one after another, my weapon gave an empty _click_, and when I reached down for another clip, I realized there wasn't one.

I gave a disbelieving glance at my empty pockets. "_Fuck_," I whispered, voice cracking with panic.

And then the static in my ear returned, followed by a crackling and then rapid breathing.

"_Hello? Unit twelve? This is Lieutenant Stroud! Can anyone hear me?"_

I gasped wildly, standing stock straight from my cover and jamming a finger to my ear.

"Lieutenant!" I nearly screeched. "Lieutenant, is that you?! We're here! This is Melanie! Melanie Santiago!"

There was a pause, and then an audible gasp. _"Finally! Private, I've been trying for hours. What's your status?"_

I gazed at the battle around me, dropping back into a crouch, not even sure where to begin. Suddenly overwhelmed, I let my Lancer slip from my fingers and my shoulders droop under the weight of my exhaustion. "Lieutenant," I forced out in between heavy breaths. "I don't…I don't even know where to _start._"

"_It's okay," _she reassured. _"Delta should be near. Are you under heavy fire?"_

I nodded vigorously as though she could see me in person. "Yes ma'am," I answered. "And running low on resources."

"_I understand, Private. You only have to hold them off for a bit longer." _She paused for a moment. _"I may be able to patch you through to Delta, but it could take a minute. Can you manage?"_

Hunter jumped up from his cover to get a better view of his target. A few Locust were charging forward, and so I stood up too, shotgun suddenly pumped and blasting away the torso of an angry drone that had gotten too close.

The drones suddenly realized the flaws of their method, and shot off in different directions, some falling back and some moving to the side. Then as I prepared myself for whatever they were going to do next, my eyes caught something. Something I was all too familiar with.

A frag grenade soared towards us, bouncing straight off the top edge of our concrete barrier and landing at Hunter's feet. He hadn't even realized, his back partially turned towards me as he aimed at the Locust that had scattered to the left.

How had he not noticed? How could anyone be so unobservant during a firefight?

My body moved on its own, sheer panic thoughtlessly driving me forward. I hurled myself at Hunter, shoving him away as hard as I could. I heard the breath rapidly leave his lungs, and our armor clanked together right before he was tumbling to the ground and rolling away. He'd done what I wanted him to, his back to the grenade, too shocked and instinctually dependent to ask why.

And that's really all I had time for.

I'd flung myself desperately to the other side of the barrier, but then the grenade erupted, and a searing, burning blast of heat sent me flying. The world instantly blurred before my eyes, a terrible fear enveloping me as gravity ceased to exist, and I lost all sense of direction. I wanted to flail. And _scream_. But then I was landing, skidding across the concrete before landing on top of the remaining rubble of the barrier I'd previously been positioned behind.

It had all happened so fast. How? Was I even alive? I couldn't think. Couldn't _breathe_. All I could do was feel. And choke. Choke on my own, ragged breathing. Cough and sputter and cry, because my body had never experienced such an overpowering, blinding, _crippling_ pain.

"Melanie?!" Justin screamed, hysterical and far away. "Melanie! _Melanie!_"

I must have been alive. I couldn't imagine death ever being this terrible.

I was a mess of limbs, haphazardly tossed atop a pile of crumbled concrete and something…sharp. There was too much sensation to register. Too much pain to evaluate.

My body was on fire. Road rash up and down my arms, coupled with a terrible burning from the blast. There was a dizzying throb at the base of my skull, probably a result of me bouncing off the concrete. A wave of nausea washed over me. Black spots danced across my vision.

"_Private Santiago? Melanie, do you copy?"_

A sharp, stabbing pain suddenly flared in my right side, muting all other sensation, becoming the center of my focus. I coughed, a high-pitched, pathetic sound. Could I move? I attempted to raise my hips, and instantly regretted it when the sharp pain intensified. There was a strange, sickening tear against my flesh, forcing me to remain motionless. I swallowed down the cry welling up in my throat, tears pouring down my cheeks.

"Lieutenant! Lieutenant, this is Private Miller! Melanie's down! I repeat, our acting sergeant is _down_!"

The horror in Justin's voice did no good for my nerves. I was trying so hard to slow my heart rate as it hammered in my chest. But then I'd remember the pain. And the burning and the ache.

I felt something warm, an odd sensation pooling at my right side.

"_Tell me what's happened, Private!"_

"There are about two dozen of 'em! Maybe, thirty, I-I don't know! Melanie got caught in a frag blast. She's down for the count, and Able doesn't look too good either." Justin's voice disappeared from my ear, only to cast out again across the battlefield. "Hunter!" he shouted. "Hunter, what's your status?!"

Hunter's strained voice sounded off, not too far away. "I'm okay! Agh! Taken heavy fire, though!"

"Hunter's fine," Justin reported back, his breathless voice in my head again.

"_Alright, can you see Santiago?" _the Lieutenant asked. _"Is she okay, can you reach her?"_

"She's…she's a few yards ahead!" Justin replied. "But I…I don't know if I can reach her, she's out in the open." He stopped momentarily, breathing heavily into the radio. "She…she doesn't look good. I think she landed in some barbed wire."

Barbed wire? Was that the slicing pain in my right side? Fuck, no wonder it hurt so bad. I couldn't move much, but I had my hands right? My right hand, positioned awkwardly over my head, dragged down slowly. It slid across the rubble, down my armor, and then finally reached the bottom, grazing over the spot where my skin was exposed a few inches above my hipbone. How the hell did the wire even manage to cut through? Heavy clothing and skin were both sliced, the wire imbedded deep in my flesh.

Fingers shaking, I prodded at the wound, more terrified by the second.

"She's moving!" Justin exclaimed into the radio. "She's awake, Melanie's _moving_!"

As my hand fell back to the ground, arm feeling terribly heavy, I furrowed my eyebrows at the strange sensation at my fingertips. Swallowing, I shakily lifted my head from the concrete, gazing down at my fingers. Narrowing my eyes even more, I gasped, rubbing the slick pads of my fingers together.

Blood. I was bleeding.

And suddenly, I was horrified. Not by the site of blood, but by the heaviness of my limbs, the numbing fade of my pain, and the pool of warmth beneath me, growing larger, and more cold by the second.

"Wow," I breathed, my head falling back, an ache in my skull flaring. The enormity of what had happened fell over me, making my heart feel heavy in my chest. As the world around me waned, I stopped focusing on the voices in my ear, the rumbling of ammunition, and stared up at the sky, wondering where things had gone wrong. "I think I'm dying."

* * *

><p><strong>Finally, I've reached a point in this story where I truly know what I want to do with it. Took me long enough, right?<strong>

**My continued support is humbling, and the only reason I continue to write away at this during the late hours of the night. I love you all :)**

**I hope you all have a beautiful holiday and a happy new year. And, if the world ends, at least I can say that I was able to post one more chapter for you beautiful people. **

**Thanks for reading. Please tell me what you think :)**


	14. Chapter 14

**How…what…I can't…**

**I guess all I can offer you is a thank you. The response to the last chapter was amazing. **

**Oh. I guess I can offer you a new chapter, too. This one was pretty intense while writing, and all but about 200 words were done in a single sit-down. Yeah, I was tired the next morning at my 8am class. **

**Enjoy.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Fourteen: To Pieces <strong>

**Dom**

The battlefield and family didn't mix. Not a bit.

I'd done a lot of stupid shit. Crazy shit. Shit I shouldn't have lived through. But none of that came close to what I was doing now. Because Anya was buzzing in our ears, Melanie was in danger, and I could hear the firefight up ahead. Caution be damned, I took off into a sprint, heading straight towards the billowing smoke.

"Dom!" Marcus shouted angrily behind me. "Dom, what the fuck!"

I knew I was being stupid, but my legs wouldn't slow down. In moments, I flew through the tree line, finally presented with concrete under my boots and a street aligned with buildings that had seen far better days. And down the street, far to my right, I could see them. The three teenagers from the day Mel and her squad left, a day that seemed so freaking long ago. And then the monsters, drones, swarming them with diligence.

But still. None of it mattered to me. As I sprinted down the street, my eyes scanned for one thing only: Melanie. My legs brought me closer and closer. And I still couldn't see her.

"_Dom, you get yourself killed an I'll be pissed!" _

I jammed a finger into my ear. "Then get up here and help me you ass!" I reached and grabbed my shotgun from my back and began to holler. "Hey ugly!" I called into the air. "The Calvary's arrived!" And sure enough, a few of the charging Drones paused and lifted their gray heads.

I gave the blond, hyper kid a moment long enough to wipe blood from his forehead and take out two Locusts. And just as the Drones decided to acknowledge my existence, I was already tucked and rolling into a cover spot, a maneuver that would have been far much easier if I was still young.

"_Dom, we're flanking off to the right," _Marcus said into my ear. _"Keep those fuckers entertained until we attack." _

"You got it, Marcus!" I answered back, positioning myself into a low squat. Suddenly, I remembered there was also a Gear next to me, and I shot a look to my left. He looked pretty familiar, green eyes and some crazy, unkempt hair. Loading shotgun shells into my weapon, I gave him a nod. "Who're you, kid?"

Breathing hard and vigorously digging in his pockets, he told me "Private Justin Miller, sir!"

Before I answered, I shot up out of my squat to blast an approaching Locusts' torso to bits before crouching back down. "You've done a helluva job, Private!" I shouted over the firefight. "Pissed 'em off nice and good!"

"You're telling _me!_" he agreed exhaustedly, still digging in his pockets. "Where's the rest of your squad?"

I gave a nod toward the tree line off at the edge of the road. "Coming around the back! We'll have cover fire in no time!"

A poorly thrown frag blast suddenly erupted a few yards up, and we both shrouded are faces with our forearms. Then I finally decided to cut to the chase, anxious enough to explode.

"Where's Santiago?!" I asked him, eyeing the battlefield left and right. "Where's Melanie?!"

His expression took a turn into FUBAR land, and he shot a finger out towards a particularly large pile of rubble. "There, sir!" he shouted, as if it were an acceptable answer. "Caught in a frag blast! She's alive, but we haven't been able to reach her!"

I lifted my eyes from the kid, narrowing them at the gray rock he suggested. _What? _I saw nothing but concrete and barbed wire, all tangled up into a pile of mess. At worst, it had been a barricade, blown to pieces by a grenade-

Then the rubble shifted slightly. First, barely enough for me to even catch. And then a hand, coated with gray, lifted slowly into the air.

All I could do was watch.

"_Dom, we've got a visual!" _Marcus reported._ "Stay where you are until we thin 'em out!"_

"Sir?!" Justin called, snapping my attention back to him. "Sir, what's our plan?!" His eyes were wide and desperate, and if I wasn't as desperate as he was, I would have been angry at the amount of concern radiating from this kid. _What the fuck's got _your _nerves in a bunch? _I would ask accusingly, and then I'd give him a good smack on the back of the head.

But no time for that.

"I'm going to get her!" I said, rolling my shoulders and cracking my neck. "And _you _are gonna stay put for cover fire!"

His green eyes narrowed, and my urge to smack him returned. "Are you crazy?!" he shouted, giving me a look. "You'll be riddled with bullets before you reach her!"

"Not if you do your job!" I shouted back. Then I removed my Lancer from my back, shoved it into his hands and emptied my pockets of ammo. "Here!" I said. "This should be enough!"

In the next second, his shouts were behind me, and I was charging on to the battlefield.

"_Dom!" _Marcus's voice instantly resounded as soon as I'd stepped out of cover. _"Are you fucking insane? I said stay put!" _

I dropped two Locusts with my shotgun as I ran. "Stop your whining and cover me!" I retorted. _He _was insane for expecting me to wait.

"_We gotcha covered, baby!" _Cole chimed in. _"You get Lil' Santiago and we'll handle the uglies!" _

I closed the distance between me and Mel in seconds, ammunition flying everywhere, all around my head. Not even slowing as I took out Locust after Locust, it wasn't long until I was sliding in next to the rubble, head ducked as low as I could manage.

"Mel?!" I called instantly, hunched down over her form. "Baby, look at me!"

She was alive, alright, but that's all I could say. Her dark eyes fluttered open, unfocused and hazed. "D-Dad?" she forced out, her voice as dry as the rubble.

"Yes!" I exclaimed, leaning in close to give her an assessment. "Listen, sweetheart, I need you to stay awake for me. Can you do that?"

"Yeah," she breathed, swallowing roughly. Her eyes focused a bit more now, scanning and watching everything I did.

My hands moved quickly, but carefully, lifting her limbs, poking and prodding. I needed to make sure everything was okay before I even attempted to move her, and so far, besides more scrapes and bruises than I could count, she was good.

Then my hands slipped under her armor at her hip, and came back moist with blood. "Shit," I cursed, slipping the band of her cargo pants out of the way in a panic.

As hard as I tried, I couldn't help but flinch. "Oh shit, babe," I whispered, softly grazing at the deep laceration in her skin. There was a line of barbed wire, imbedded down into the flesh. When I looked back up at her face, tears were pouring from the corners of her eyes.

Swallowing hard, I took a deep breath. "Alright, Mel," I said, reaching up to rub her arm reassuringly. "I'm getting you the hell out of here. But we have to take this out first, okay?" Unable to look at me, she simply stared at the sky and shook her head, the color draining from her face.

"It's okay, it's okay," I said, playing the fraise on repeat for her _and _me. Then I took one of her hands in mine. "Hold on real tight, okay?" I told her, looking into her eyes.

"Okay," she croaked, gripping my fingers as fear crept into her voice.

Letting in one more shuddering breath, I squeezed her hand with mine and then lowered my free one to her hip. "Ready?" I asked, and all she could do was nod.

Connecting her gaze with mine, I gripped the barbed wire between my fingers and began to count. "On three," I whispered. "One. Two. _Three!_" I yanked the wire out quickly and swiftly, causing Mel to make a noise that went straight to my heart. Then I immediately covered the wound with one hand, and lent down to brush to tears from her cheeks with the other.

"Shh, it's okay," I repeated, feeling lousy as I stroked her cheek with my thumb. "You're okay, it wasn't as deep as you think." My reassurance offered little to console her, but she bit her lip and nodded, too focused on trying not to cry.

"Alright, babe," I said, raising into a squat, cautious of the slowing battle around me. "Now we move. Can you stand?" I asked, scanning her with my eyes again. "Do you want to try?"

Suddenly, Marcus was in my ear again. _"Dom! Dom, three o'clock!" _

Standing from my crouch, I eyed the charging Drone with rage. Not even bothering to shoot the damn thing, I charged right back at it, my shotgun gripped at the barrel with both hands. As soon as I was in range, I swung the weapon like a bat, cracking the Drone across the side of his skull and dropping him instantly. Then I gave him a nice, swift curb stomp, squashing the bastard's head with my massive boot.

"_Fuck _you!" I roared, giving the corpse another good kick in its side. My anger was consuming me now, and as I turned my glance back to my broken daughter sprawled out across the concrete, I realized abruptly just how close I, once again, had come.

How close I'd been to losing another god damn family member.

Shaking off the rage, I knelt back down next to Melanie and slid an arm under her shoulders. "Ready, sweetheart?" I asked, my heart still racing with adrenaline. I helped her sit up from the concrete, and she whimpered, one of her hands moving to her hip.

"That's good," I told her. "I know it hurts, but keep pressure there, okay? Here, put an arm around my neck." I helped her as carefully as I could, pulling her arm around my shoulders and wrapping my other around her waist. I covered her hand at her hip with my own, adding pressure to the wound. "Alright," I sighed, glancing around us a bit frantically. "We've gotta hurry, so if it hurts, just run now and think later." The color had completely vanished from her cheeks at this point, but she managed to scowl at me and nod.

"Okay then, come on," I said, starting to walk forward as I supported nearly all of her weight.

We didn't get far.

Mel's grip around my neck suddenly loosened as the strength left her in one good swoop. Her knees buckled, and she nearly fell back to the ground.

"Mel!" I called, catching her around her waist and pulling her upright. "Melanie, what's wrong?" Her skin was clammy now, and turning into a sickly looking color.

"I…" She started, eyes rolling. "I think…I think I'm gonna throw up."

_Now _I was panicking. "Whoa, whoa, whoa," I said, pulling her closer to my chest and helping her stand upright. "Why, what's wrong? Is it the pain, are you hurt anywhere else?"

Her eyes drooped close for a moment as she tried to answer. "I think I…hit my head. It feels like…feels like the ground is moving."

I gave her a single raise of an eyebrow. "Come on, then," I said, lifting her completely from the ground and pulling her up into my arms. "Guess we're doing it this way."

Her eyes opened, and she almost looked embarrassed for a moment. "Don't drop me," she managed, her head lolling and then resting against my armor plate.

"Give me more credit, would you?" I told her, immediately going into a slight run off to the side. The battle had nearly died down completely now, the rest of Delta out of the trees and casually finishing off the few straggling Drones. Justin, along with the other two from Melanie's squad stood together now, watching me as I approached with their final member, a bleeding mess in my arms. Justin ran over and met me half way, eyes wide with anxiety that once again made my temper flare.

"Melanie!" he called, turning to walk at my side when he reached us. "Oh my god, is she going to be okay?"

I resisted the urge to snap at him. "Yeah," I answered simply, my tone a bit more cold than it should have been. "Just got to patch her up and get her medical aid." I turned from all the kids and walked a few more paces before kneeling down to set Melanie on the ground.

Mel's eyes opened up again, this time scanning over my face in an exhausted way. She was getting worse.

"I'm not dead, right?" she asked softly.

Suddenly forcing back a wave of emotion, I shook my head at her. "No, babe," I said. "No, it'd take a lot more to take you down."

I had hopes that my words would encourage her, but then she coughed harshly, a cry also escaping as she disturbed her wound. Then she brought a hand up to her mouth, wiping something away from her lips.

She let her hand dangle in front of her eyes for a moment. "Uh oh," she croaked.

I glanced at her fingers, a new weight of severity suddenly landing on my shoulders as I took in her now freshly bloody fingers. Then I looked back down at her expression, catching it just quick enough to watch as her eyes rolled up and then closed all together. Her hand fell to the concrete, limp at her side.

And then my world was spiraling, shattering to pieces all around me.

* * *

><p><strong>Melanie<strong>

I came to once more, everything in my vision blurry and unregistered. My body felt like it was numb. Like it wasn't even mine. I existed somewhere else, outside of my body, and laying on the ground was nothing but phantom limbs.

"_Shit! _Shit!_ Melanie, babe! Come on, hon, don't do this to me. Melanie, sweetheart? Can you hear me? _Say _something, Mel!"_

There was a voice. It sounded far off, shapeless, and very persistent. It kept telling me to look at him. Weren't my eyes open? I could see the sky. Taste blood in my mouth. Feel pain everywhere, but then again, I couldn't. I _knew _I was supposed to be in pain, but…I couldn't really feel much of anything.

"_Marcus, Cole, Baird, get over here!" _

There goes the voice again.

"_What's wrong?! What's happening?!" _said another.

"_Stand back, kid!" _a new one added, gruff and filled with authority. And then there were more forms looking over me.

"_She's going into shock," _said the first voice in desperation. _"We have to stop the bleeding _now_,"_

"_But the laceration isn't even that bad!" _a new one insisted.

"_Yeah, but she's coughing up blood. Could be some inner hemorrhaging."_

"_Shit, that's bad."_

"_Yeah, no fucking shit, Baird." _

I tried grasping the situation. Tried desperately to come back to reality. What was happening? There was something wrong. Something terribly wrong. But my brain wouldn't work, and neither would my body.

"_Here, open this. We can at least stop what bleeding we can."_

"_Yeah, but a hemostat won't hold for long. It'll only slow the process, and it's all we've got." _

"_Well you got any better ideas in that head of yours?!"_

"_Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do! But she's not gonna like it. And she needs to snap out of it before I can do anything." _

"_Do what you need, Baird, just hurry up!"_

"_Alright, alright! Here, use this to prop her feet up. And take this damn chest plate off. Hey, Fenix! You got a water canteen?" _

I could sense a flurry of motion going on around me, but then I realized my eyes had shut again. I suddenly felt an extreme exhaustion. The voices were getting far away. I liked having my eyes shut better.

"_You ready?"_

"_Yeah, go for it Fenix. Make it quick." _

I was suddenly and very abruptly drenched with water, the liquid sliding down my throat and filling my nostrils. Before I knew it, my eyes were blinking against it and I was trying to sit up, violently coughing and sputtering and confused as hell.

"Melanie!" my father exclaimed from my left side, wiping my face with his large hand. "Mel, are you okay? Say something!"

I couldn't speak, not yet. I was too busy choking on lukewarm water. I answered him with a pitiful sound.

"There we go," Baird said, sounding far too pleased with himself. "Hey Cole! You still got those flares in your pocket?"

_What the fuck _for_? _I wanted to ask. But the pain was back. It had returned in full force, and I could feel _everything_. It was all I could focus on. Grinding my teeth together, I sobbed a few times, not giving a damn about how dumb I must have sounded.

They were all leaning over me, Cole and Marcus on their feet, and my father and Baird at my sides. My feet were propped up on something, probably hip packs. I also realized that my chest armor was gone, and I wasn't even in the mood to appreciate it.

My right hip burned and hurt like a bitch. And my head pounded sickeningly.

"Catch, Damon!" Cole said, tossing him a red cylinder that I assumed was a flare. Baird caught it and looked up at my father.

"Hey Santiago, you got that knife of yours?"

My father furrowed his eyebrows suspiciously. "Yeah," he said uncertainly, pulling it from his belt. "Why?"

Baird took the knife from him and gave it a quick look-over. "I need one with a wide blade. This should be good."

Something seemed to suddenly click between the others because my father's face went pale, Marcus made a noise in the back of his throat, and Cole rubbed a hand over his eyes.

"Awe shit," Cole sighed, sounding pretty displeased. "You sure, Damon?"

Baird gave each of them a glare. "Oh, don't look at me like I'm the fucking bad guy. You want to stop the bleeding or not?" They all seemed to agree with his reasoning, so Baird continued.

"Santiago, you get the left. Fenix, Cole, get down here."

Marcus and Cole knelt down on the ground next to me, Marcus at my head and Cole at my feet.

I felt a sudden sense of doom settle in my stomach.

"What are you doing?" I managed to force out, eyeing all of them nervously.

My father bent over and brought my attention to him. "Baird's gotta do something to completely stop the bleeding in your side. You went into shock earlier, which was probably from blood loss. We stop what we can now, and there's not as much to worry about until we get you to a hospital."

I nodded at him and swallowed, the taste of blood still coating my mouth. "Okay," I whispered, fear gripping me as I watched Baird turn away from me with the flare and my father's knife in his hands.

I heard a scruff, like a match being struck, and then a red light suddenly illuminated from Baird's hands as he ignited the flare. It spewed a small, intense stream of fire, and billowed smoke.

Baird coughed a few times as he worked. "Damn," he forced out. "Fucking flare." His back was still to me, and I couldn't quite tell what he was doing.

"Alright," he said after about a minute, still turned away from everyone. "Everybody ready?"

Cole's huge hands clamped down on my legs. Marcus's pressed heavily on my shoulders. And my father pulled my clothing fabric well out of the way of my hip wound, preparing to pull the bloody gauze away as soon as he was ordered.

My breath was suddenly coming in quick, dizzying heaves. I'd caught on to the plan. Tears poured from my eyes.

My father leaned in and pressed his forehead to mine. "It'll be over soon," he murmured. "Hold onto my hand, okay?"

I nodded once again as he sat up, stiff, more terrified than I'd ever been.

Baird suddenly chunked the flare far away from us, and then turned around with my father's knife in his hand. It glowed red with heat.

And then he was leaning over me, I felt the grips on me tighten, and he pressed the hot metal to the laceration at my side.

I screeched until my throat was raw, fighting frantically at all of the arms that pinned me to the ground. The searing pain was intense and unbearable, and I was vaguely aware of cries and pleas streaming from my lips. Desperate, unintelligible begging. Pleading for them to stop. Praying that the pain would go away.

I cried, and thrashed and screamed. I'd never felt a pain so potent and blinding.

And then as suddenly as the pain had began, it dulled, because Baird had sealed the wound, and he'd removed the knife from my flesh.

Then all I could do was breathe, ragged, wild and sharp with relief. A few pathetic whimpers escaped, but I didn't care. I was _so damn far _from caring.

Marcus was dumping what little remained of his water onto the wound to help cool it, closer to empathy than I'd probably ever see him again. It helped momentarily, but an awful sting returned once the water stopped. It was nothing compared to how bad it had been a few moments before.

My father was staring at the ground, this deeply disconcerting look on his face as he rubbed a hand reassuringly up and down my arm. I wanted to say something, but I still couldn't find my voice. Exhaustion was settling back in, taking fading adrenaline's place.

"Melanie?" a familiar voice sounded off, but I couldn't see anything past my father or Baird still examining my wound.

Justin peaked his head over Baird's massive shoulders. When I glanced up at him, his expression was…

_Nope_. I swallowed. _No more crying. Don't do this to me. _

I blinked my tears back the best I could, casting my eyes up to the sky so I wouldn't see that look on his face anymore.

"Wipe that look off your face," I said, barely audible. "It's freaking me out."

"She speaks!" Baird interjected as he prodded at his work on my side. "Well that's a good sign, I guess."

I did my best to grimace. "More than I can say for you." I retorted, more out of habit than malice. Again, trying anything was simply too tiring.

As Marcus began walking away with a finger in his ear, the two others from my squad approached cautiously, Hunter peering around Justin like he was in a children's museum.

"Whoa, that'll make a sweet scar," he said in wonder, giving me to urge to roll my eyes. Then he threw a thumb's up. "Great job out there, Sarge!"

That made me blink for a moment, and I suddenly remembered my temporary responsibility. Baird snorted.

"The thought of you running a squad is terrifying," he said, shaking his head incredulously. I narrowed my eyes.

"I'm still outranking _you_," I tried to hiss. "I could make you drop and give me twenty."

"Yeah right," he snorted again. "That ship has sailed."

Swallowing, I realized the toll all this talking was taking on my dry throat. "Technically…technically I still could. Lieutenant Stroud has yet to relieve me of my duties."

"You were relieved when I showed up," Marcus came in, walking up as he dropped his hand from his ear. Then he tossed a look over his shoulder. "Cole's further up street waving in the chopper. Should be here any minute. Can she stand?" He gave a questioning look at my father, who in turn set his troubled gaze on me.

Before he could answer, I decided to do it for him by attempting to sit up. Grinding my teeth together, I braced my hands under me and pushed up. "Let…let me try," I managed, forever mindful of the burning at my side.

My father was instantly hesitant. "I don't know, babe," he said, helping me upright with an arm around my shoulders. "Why don't I just carry you like before?"

As Baird let out one of his most condescending looks ever, I shook my head and sighed. "At least let me _stand_," I said with my teeth clenched. Then before someone tried to stop me, I used my father's shoulders as a crutch to help me onto my feet.

It was difficult to say the least. As soon as I stood upright, it felt as though all my blood was rushing to my feet. An awful, throbbing pain radiated from the base of my skull to my forehead, and the ground beneath me seemed to sway. It must have all shown on my face, because before I'd even retained an ounce of balance, my father was jumping to his feet and Justin's hands were on my arms.

"Chill _out_!" I snapped, still questioning whether I'd even be able to walk as I feebly shoved each of them away. "Geez, where's the fire?"

Baird was grinning away, and I swear even Marcus managed to look amused. Hunter laughed into his hand, and I assumed Finn had grown impatient because he had silently snuck away to join Cole further up the street. All I wanted to do was crawl onto the damn chopper and sleep for several weeks. But I also knew things were never that easy.

As the seconds ticked by, I realized I'd started dividing my weight more and more between my father and Justin, each of them on either of my sides, my arms draped around their shoulders. As the Raven finally landed and Cole jogged back over, I started to feel a tangible tension between the two men at my hips, their occasional sideways glares annoying me more and more.

Cole gave me a knowing grin as he slowed to a stop. "Bird's here, everyone ready for life off?" he asked, his amused eyes lingering on my father's sinister looking expression.

"Yes," I answered with exasperation, hoping to express that now was _not the time_ for some foolish and possessive superiority contest. "Please get me the hell out of here."

And just as I thought a fight may erupt between the two morons at my flanks, I made a quick choice on a whim, deciding that _neither _of them would be helping me on to the chopper until they got over whatever was bothering them and learned how to _get along_.

Carefully and wobbly, I detached myself from silent competitors to limp over to Cole. In a silent request, I gestured for him to turn around, and he did happily, a huge, smug, superstar grin plastered on his face.

The expression of Justin and my father as I climbed onto Cole's back was priceless, a true picture-worthy moment that I'd just have to save to memory. I'd never seen Justin act so jealous. And I'd never seen my father act so young.

As Cole began strutting his way towards the chopper wearing me as a backpack, he couldn't help but laugh. Too tired to join in, I simply grinned, tightened my arms around Cole's neck, and thanked some higher power for the small, yet satisfying victory.

* * *

><p><strong>Aaaaaand end. WOW. That chapter was fun to write, I must say. Going back and giving it a look through, I don't think I've ever been more satisfied with any other previous post. <strong>

**I hope you guys are as happy with it as I am. And if you are, let me know :) **

**Thank you, my loves, for such beautiful support. This would be nothing without you! **

**P.S. Now that the mission is over, would anyone like to take a stab at where the hell this story will go now? Because I can tell you, Prescott isn't really a happy camper with how things have played out…**


	15. Chapter 15

**And here we are, kicking off the third and final part of this story. Who would have thought we'd get to this? I certainly didn't. Before we continue, I'd like to take a moment to thank each and every one of you from the bottom of my heart. Whether it was because of reviews, favorites or follows, this story was solely for you, the readers. I am nothing without you :)**

**As always, please enjoy. I know it's short, but maybe it'll tide you over until the next chapter is complete.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Fifteen: Prologue #2<strong>

**Melanie**

"Hey, whataya call this stuff again?" I asked, nudging the limp man sitting on the barstool next to me.

He jerked violently, trying to act like he'd been awake the whole time. "Huh?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. "Oh, yeah. That stuff. I dunno, they pour it, I drink it."

I eyed the deep burgundy liquid in my class with speculation. "That's not the safest philosophy, ya know."

The man shrugged. "That's too bad. I've never been a phil…philo…wait, what was that word you used?"

"_Phi-los-o-phy,_" I reiterated. "As in _beliefs. _Personal _ideas_."

"Yeah, right," the man nodded in agreement. Then he paused. "I'm sorry, what're you askin' again?"

I groaned and let my forehead smack onto the surface of the wooden bar. "You're a _terrible _listener, Ramón."

"Hey!" he slurred, pointing a limp finger at me. "I'm a _great _listener. You just chose to come talk to me _after _I started drinking. Who's fault is that?"

I picked my head from the bar just enough to could glare at him. "You've been sitting here for hours. Some people have other things to do other than _drink_."

"Oh yeah?" he challenged, doing his best to sit up straight and look at me. Most of his weight leaned over the bar. "Then what's your excuse, miss _Melanie_? I'm a washed up old guy with no family, no friends, and no _care_. Just goin' on through life, lying to myself about how maybe _someday…_I might actually have a _reason _to wake up in the morning." He took on a contemplative look, but was unable to give the full affect considering his eyes were drooping.

"Now _you_," he continued with a sweep of his hand, nearly spilling his drink all over the place. "You're young. You're pretty. You're a soldier. Hell, you're a fuckin' _catch_. Back in my day, young, pretty soldiers like yourself didn't drink away their sorrows. They had a good man attached to their hip for _listening_." Smirking to himself, Ramón paused and then added, "You shouldn't be here, looking for old, washed up men like me. No matter _how_ willing we are to sit here and listen to your whole life story. So what's the deal, sweetheart? What's a nice kid like you doin' in a dirty place like this?"

I dropped my eyes to the bar, scratching in random patterns and designs with my fingernails. I refused to look up at him until I was sure I wouldn't cry, surprised at how deeply his words affected me.

Once I was confident I had a handle on my emotions, I reached back into one of my pockets and gripped the paper letter there, the same one I'd received at oh-seven hundred that morning. Pulling the letter out, I unfolded it until the words, and the official seal of the COG were visible. Then, as clear representation of my sorrow, I smacked the paper flat onto the bar, directly in front of Ramón so he could read. After a moment or two, he did.

"Damn," I heard him mutter after a full minute had passed by. "Signed by the Chairman himself. They don't mess around with this kind of stuff."

"Nope," I forced out, my throat suddenly tight as I refolded the letter and stuffed it back into my pocket. "They sure don't."

"'_As a part of your female responsibility towards humanity,'_" he quoted, shaking his head slowly. "But you're a soldier of the COG. It doesn't make any sense."

"That's what I said," I murmured, sighing into my glass before sipping the rest of its contents. "But…let's just say, after a series of unfortunate events, I'm not exactly the Chairman's favorite person."

Ramón snorted. "Bullshit. There's gotta be more to it than that."

"Oh, there is," I reassured, examining my now empty glass. "But something tells me the Chairman's not one for being told he's wrong."

Ramón drained the rest of his glass as well, then clanked it down onto the bar. "So," he prompted, giving me a look with just a bit too much sympathy. "What are you going to do?"

I shrugged, staring ahead blankly at a smudge on the wall. "I dunno. I've got thirty days to decide. After that, they make the decision for me."

Ramón suddenly looked troubled, and his brow furrowed with concern. "That isn't right, sweetheart."

I shook my head in agreement, and then we fell into silence.

Then, after a few minutes, I turned and looked over at Ramón with a smirk. "Hey. You wanna know what the worst part about this is going to be?" Tears burned at the corner of my eyes, but the grin remained.

"What?" he asked, looking back and playing along with a small, lopsided smile.

I heaved a sigh, heavy and depressing, before resting my cheek on the bar and folding my arms over my stomach. "Telling my dad."

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><p><strong>Again, sorry for the length. I'm working hard on the next chapter now. Thanks for reading, and as always, please tell me what you think :)<strong>


	16. Chapter 16

***Curls into the fetal position and begins sobbing uncontrollably on the floor***

**I'm so sorry about the absurd, atrocious wait. And honestly, I can't even promise you that it was worth it. As I hate to say, this is one of those "uneventful but necessary" transition chapters. Maybe that's why it gave me so much writer's block. **

**At least I'm getting a bit more rebellious. A large portion of this was actually written **_**in class**_**. I'm trying to utilize my time. And, I've actually had the chapter done for almost a week now, but I've also had absolutely no internet access. Ugh. **

**As always, I love you all dearly…enjoy.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Sixteen: Decrepit <strong>

**Anya**

My hand slipping from my ear to grab my typical watered down cup of coffee, I let out a massive breath, the weight of a thousand worlds crumbling from my shoulders. No one died. They were on their way back. I still had a job.

_Crisis averted_, I thought, sipping at the lukewarm drink with my eyes closed. _Looks like my shift here is done_.

A soft knock on my office door sounded off, and my eye gave a little twitch. Sighing, I bid farewell to my peace and quickly slid my aching feet back into my heels, standing reluctantly to open the door.

"Colonel Hoffman," I said, staring up at his tired face. I sidestepped to let him in. "I'm sure you've heard."

"Sure have, Lieutenant," he answered, walking to the center of the room as I shut the door behind him.

The way his eyes wondered everywhere but to my own worried me. He was also normally very straight to the point. But Colonel Hoffman had been in my office for a good twelve seconds now, and he had yet to give me an update or order of any kind.

"Can I help you with something, sir?" I asked, keeping busy as I shuffled through papers on my desk. He continued to stare around at the walls.

"Lieutenant," he began. "How much do you know about Private Melanie Santiago?" He finally turned his eyes to me, giving his head a small tilt.

I pondered the random question momentarily. "Not much, sir. I haven't paid any attention to her unit until these past view days. They've always done patrolling duty around the base, under another Lieutenants jurisdiction."

Hoffman nodded, as if he already knew this. "Understandable," he said, absently nodding his head. "But you do know…_who_ she is, right?"

My eyes widened in the slightest. "Of course, Colonel," I answered. "Why do you ask? Is there a problem?"

His cool exterior cracking, Hoffman furrowed his brow. "Not yet, Lieutenant. But I have a feeling."

It was my turn to crack. "A feeling, sir? What exactly do you mean? Melanie's not in trouble, is she?"

Though using the Private's first name was a slip, Hoffman didn't blink an eye. "Well Lieutenant," he said, looking troubled. "I'll try and explain along the way."

I gave him a questioning glance. "Sir?"

Hoffman turned and opened my office door. "The Chairman has requested a short meeting with us. _Preferably _before Delta and Unit Twelve return."

I suddenly had a sinking feeling. "Has he said about what?"

Hoffman shook his head. "No. But I'm sure we'll find out soon enough."

Nodding, I followed him out my door, a strange numbness overcoming me. Usually I'd berate myself for worrying too much. But Hoffman had a strange, far away look on his face, and the Chairman didn't target a single solider for nothing.

* * *

><p><strong>Baird<strong>

"Cole, no. Cole, _no_!" I gave his shaved head a desperate shove as he jokingly let it loll onto my shoulder. "Any of that shit gets on me and I'll fucking kill you."

He gave a weak chuckle, tying up the end of his plastic barf bag and dropping it next to him on the extreme edge of the seat. "'S all good, Baird. Not feelin' too bad today." He decided to use his headrest instead of me, closing his eyes and leaning back.

"Yeah right," I snorted, eyeing the plastic bag as it morphed and rolled around with the chopper's movements. "You can't find a better place to put that thing? Like the floor?"

"Well you don't want to disturb lil' Santiago now, do you?"

I dropped my eyes, scanning over her sleeping form at my feet. "Pfft, who cares. It's time for her to wake up anyways."

Leaning down over the secured stretcher, I put a hand in Melanie's face. "Hey!" I barked, snapping my fingers. "Wakey-wakey. It's time for your psych test, Miss Concussion."

Melanie gave a low, pained groan before prying open her eyes, her gaze hazy and unfocused.

"What is it?" she croaked, swallowing against the dryness in her throat.

I began the slow, trying process of wedging myself down to the floor next to her. We'd been packed into the chopper pretty tight, Unit Twelve and Delta all nice and snug together. We'd barely had enough room for the stretcher to fit under our boots, but we'd managed.

Trying to fit myself next to the stretcher was another story, though.

"Alright," I grunted, squatting uncomfortably to the right of Melanie. "Listen carefully, because I hate repeating myself. Just answer all the questions right and you can go right back to sleep."

Melanie blinked once, immediately looking frustrated. "Questions?" she asked, wincing as she tried to shift around. "What-_ouch_. What questions?"

"Hey!" I snapped my fingers at her again. "Stop squirming. Your injuries aren't as bad as we thought they were, but that doesn't mean they don't exist. Now follow my finger and answer the damn questions."

I asked her trivial things, like what was her dad's name or where she was. As I wore down her patience, her unawareness picked at mine. The only thing she seemed even remotely interested in was going back to sleep. I didn't blame her, but then again, I was never one for sympathy.

"Ugh, would you _stop_?" I hissed, huffing a sigh before repositioning over my scrunched up legs. "No sleeping until I'm done. Your over-grogginess isn't a great sign, you know." I pressed a thumb over her left eyelid and lifted it, using a small flashlight to watch her pupil react. She let out a whine.

"Stay still, baby," Dom insisted, surprisingly taking my side. I paused in my actions momentarily to wait for Melanie's protests which were bound to come.

Instead, Melanie sighed in defeat. "Sorry, Baird," she whispered, and I was surprised again. I shook my head. Freakin' Santiago's.

The examination went a lot smoother after that, and then as I did my best to straighten up, Melanie's eyes slipped right back closed. Squashing myself in the bench seat next to Cole again, I stuffed the flashlight back in my pocket.

"Report?" Dom asked, already looking at me with that overly concerned expression.

I laid my head back and closed my eyes as I spoke. "She's fine, all things considered. Seems we jumped the gun with the original diagnoses. She'd be in deep shit if we'd been right."

"What do you mean by that?" Dom inquired impatiently.

I crossed my arms over my chest. "What I _mean_ is that we were right to stop the laceration bleeding, and wrong about the inner hemorrhaging. First strike of luck all god damn week."

"What about the blood she coughed up?" Dom persisted. "What made her go into shock?"

"Who knows," I grumbled. "Possible she inhaled too much debris or shrapnel. Or just bit her damn tongue. Seeing her own blood could have been what tipped her over the edge. It happens."

He was still unsatisfied.

"That doesn't make any sense, though," he went on, picking up momentum. "She's seen her own blood before, and it's never done a damn thing. And there must be something else behind her lack of energy. She can barely keep her eyes open. Could that be her concussion? Should she be allowed to sleep? Give me details, Baird."

Grinding my teeth together, I opened my eyes up into slits. "I already _told _you. She's fine."

"She sure as hell wasn't fine on the battlefield," Dom retorted.

"Is _anyone_?" I shot back.

"He's not gonna stop until you spit it out," Marcus added.

For the millionth time that day, let out a huge breath, and then slapped a hand over my face. "_Look_," I snapped, holding out my free palm at Dom to chill him out. "If I knew about something worth worrying about, I would _tell you_, jackass. But like I said, she's _fine_. The shock could have been caused by numerous things. Pain, exhaustion, you name it. It's just a way for the body to say _'I'm done.' _Hell, I'd bet seeing the blood on her hand _was _what tipped her over the edge. Even if it was from something small, the _thought_ of internal bleeding could have caused a problem. Do you get where I'm coming from? She was bad then, but now she's _fine_. Beat up, covered in bruises, but _fine_. That a good enough report for you, Santiago? Or are you going to continue to keep me from sleep?"

Dom's mouth snapped shut as he blinked at me. Then, his fervor depleted, and he sat back in his chair. "Shit," he muttered, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Sorry. I trying here, I really am."

I sat back too, and assumed my original position. "Whatever. Blame it on claustrophobia. The sooner we get out of this chopper the better."

Dom snorted. "Wish I could be more like _them_," he said, nodding his head towards the three teens sitting across from us.

All of Melanie's squad, including her, were out. One flat on the floor, and the others doing their best to sleep sitting up straight. The hyper, blond kid was actually drooling.

"Awe, ain't that cute," Cole chuckled.

I grimaced and shut my eyes as well. "Drool on me and I'll stab you," I told him, giving him a jab with my elbow.

He kept on chuckling. "Love you too, baby," he replied, nudging me back.

* * *

><p><strong>Dom<strong>

It seemed like forever until I could finally see our sad excuse of a COG base over the horizon, surrounded only by Stranded camps, and then civvies in the middle. The distinct difference between the two was the roofs covering their heads, whether it be a normal living complex, or, any sort of housing scrap they could find.

We'd made great time flying in, nearly maxing out the Raven's weight capacity with stored fuel. The _last _damn thing anyone wanted to deal with was bartering with Stranded for fuel. Exhaustion was high, and patience was _low_.

Justin and Finn had finally come around, but Hunter still snored, slouched in his seat and falling over towards Justin's shoulder every few minutes. Each time, Justin would scowl and shove him off. I'd have to hide my grin.

Of course, when Justin first roused he asked about Melanie, to my dismay. I'd given him a level look and told him what Baird had told me multiple times, she was _fine_. Too distracted in his worries, he'd accepted my answer, and turned to gaze out over the landscape.

I'd also caught Marcus staring at me out of the corner of his eye, looking far too close to his version of amused.

"Bite me," I'd muttered, and he'd silently looked away.

During the ride, I also stared down at Melanie a lot, my chin resting on top of my fingers as they threaded together. _Damn_, she looked like her mom. More and more everyday. Normally when I looked at her, I'd wait for the pain to return; for the grief to wash over me. But surprisingly, when looking at Mel, it didn't hurt as much. She calmed the pain instead of encouraging it.

"Landing time, gentlemen," our pilot called out from the front. "Prep for patient transport."

He didn't have to tell me twice. My legs cramped terribly from sitting still for so long, and I was thankful for a reason to move around.

Cole and Baird stood, rolling their shoulders and popping joints. Marcus stood with them, along with the quiet guy in Melanie's squad, and Justin began to frustratingly shake Hunter until he woke up.

I knelt down to the floor, trying to make myself as small as humanly possible. "Mel?" I said as quietly as the Raven noise would allow. "Baby, we're almost there. We're gonna transport you straight to medical, okay?"

Melanie's eyes opened slowly, unfocused until they connected with mine. "Transport?" she whispered.

I nodded. "The sooner we get you checked out the better."

Melanie grimaced slightly. "Can't I walk?" she asked.

I almost laughed. "_No _way. I love you, but no. What's wrong with being transported?"

Her eyes drifted from mine. "It's embarrassing," she muttered.

At that I _had _to laugh. "Well if anyone makes fun of you," I said, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. "I'll deck 'em in the face. Fair enough?"

She managed a small, tired smile before nodding her head.

The chopper touched down right outside of the gates. As soon as it made connection with the ground, everyone piled out, wavering on our stiff legs and trying to look awake.

The handful of nurses waiting for us was expected. And Hoffman and Anya weren't a surprise.

But everyone took on a look of shock when we were also greeted by none other than the Chairman.

As the nurses hurried over to remove Melanie from the chopper, the rest of us automatically lined up straight with our legs spread and chests out. Chairman Prescott approached us with his normal bravado, eyes narrowed and hands clasped behind his back as he judged us with simple lifts of his brow.

_Is it just me, or did those calculating eyes of his just linger on my face for a second?_

He examined us in silence for a few moments, but it was obvious the gears in his head were turning. He was up to something. He always was.

Finally, he stopped his pacing and turned to face us straight on. "Good to see you all back in one piece, gentlemen," he announced, really kicking up the proud-politician show. "I _assure_ you all," he continued, his voice taking on an unfamiliar tone. "That Private Santiago will acquire the attention she deserves." Then, Prescott turned on his heal, walking back towards the base with two other soldiers at his flanks.

We waited until he was out of earshot to exhale the held breaths in our lungs.

"I thought for sure he'd rip us a new one," Justin muttered, looking tired as he shook his head. His eyes wondered towards the medical wing.

Baird snorted. "Yeah, like he'd ever crack that exterior of his."

In that moment, Anya and Hoffman joined us, still looking as tense as I'd felt a few seconds ago.

"You idiots sure know how to make my job god damn _hard_," Hoffman growled, his hands on his hips. "What the hell, Fenix? You tryin' to push me into an early grave?"

Before Marcus could say _Don't tempt me,_ I stepped in. "Sir, his decisions weren't exactly uninfluenced." I rubbed a hand over my eyes. "I know we fucked up, but we did what we thought was best. Only someone with a death wish would have stayed out there. We got data for you. It was a fucking _infested_."

"Damn it, I _know_ that, Santiago," he lamented, still frustrated as hell. "But he isn't done, not yet. You know that, don't you?"

I gave Anya a wary glance. She was standing quietly next to Hoffman, her arms clutching a file in front of her as she mulled over something in her mind. It wasn't like her to be distracted, especially while presented with Delta Squad and a Sergeant Fenix.

"He's right," she finally added, her eyes rising from the ground to look at us. "We spoke to Prescott earlier. He seemed different. If I were you guys, I wouldn't forget about that reprimand just yet."

"Awe man, I thought we did good," the blond kid muttered, letting his shoulders droop. He reminded me of a dog.

"You did good with getting out alive, Private," Anya reassured him. "But not so well with finishing the mission or following orders."

"Well it wasn't exactly the walk in the park Prescott wanted it to be," Marcus mumbled, walking around us to start heading towards the medical wing. It was easy to tell he'd grown tired of the topic. "Unit Twelve, dismissed. And Delta," he said, gesturing for us to follow. "Let's go check on the rook."

* * *

><p><strong>Melanie<strong>

The hospital wasn't all that bad. Really. All of my pain had dissipated, and the cot was getting more and more cozy by the second. Sure, I was still in my grimy war clothes, but who cares? At that moment, they felt like poofy clouds.

Poofy. Hah. What a strange word.

"Doctor Hayman, the patient is ready whenever you are," a nurse said. Her hair was a pretty color.

"About damn time," Hayman griped, walking to the foot of my cot as she glanced over a chart. I wondered why she was always so impatient.

"Miss Santiago!" Hayman called, occupied as she dug through a drawer filled with who knows what. "Has the anesthesia taken effect?"

I blinked at her through the haze. "Wha…?" It was only then that I noticed the IV in my arm.

She straightened up from the drawer to push her glasses further up her nose. "Good," she answered, taking a seat at my side in a chair with wheels. "Now we can see what those idiots did to you."

Before I was able to ask her who the idiots were, Doctor Hayman was examining the wound at my side. From the looks of it, she was prodding. But I couldn't feel a thing.

"God damn it!" she scolded loudly, her expression one of disgust. "Look at this. What _man-animal_ did this? It's a shock there's any skin left. Why do these brawny fools try to do_ everything _themselves? Ugh. Stanley! Get in here. We're gonna need antibiotics."

It went on from there as Hayman and her team of nurses buzzed around. I lost patches of time, zoning in and out every few minutes as I found spots on the ceiling that seemed really interesting. But the pain remained at bay, and that's all I really cared about.

And then at one point, Hayman was yelling at someone else other than her busy staff, her head out of view as she poked it through the white, hanging curtains.

"Quit hovering like vultures, you fools! Family only right now, so the rest of you, _out_. I mean it! Shoo! You're taking up space!"

There was a rustling and a few frustrated sighs. Then blond hair topped by goggles appeared around the curtain.

"Damn," Baird stated, expression bored and unsurprised as he glanced me over. "You look like shit."

I held my middle finger high in the air. "Sod off," I muttered, choosing a thick South Islander accent for my comeback.

Baird shot up an eyebrow. "Are you loopy or something?"

"_You're_ loopy," I countered weakly.

He gave me a deadpanned expression. "You react to anesthesia like your dad, don't you?"

"Your face."

Baird sighed dramatically before he disappeared back behind the curtain. "She's out of it," I heard him announce.

And then suddenly the curtain was swept quickly to the side by Marcus's large arm, revealing all of Delta Squad and a worrisome Justin. I started giggling. He looked so tiny next to them.

"Doctor Hayman," I said, making a grand gesture with my arms. "My suitors have arrived."

"Suitors?" my father asked, quirking an eyebrow at Marcus. The Sergeant answered him with a sideways, surreptitious glance.

"_That's _it," Hayman growled, coming back into view from behind the line of soldiers. "You and you," she barked, pointing at Marcus and my dad. "You can stay. Everyone else, out. _Now_."

The Cole and Baird made show of disappointment, throwing their arms into the air as they stomped away. Justin hesitated, taking a step back before pausing to give me another glance.

I caught his worried gaze. He probably expected a typical phrase of reassurance.

I pulled out a finger handgun, took aim and then pulled the trigger. "Later, lover," told him, smirking before giving him a lazy wink.

Instead of moving, Justin's legs locked him in place as he went completely stiff, all of his blood instantly rushing straight to his cheeks.

My father looked no better, anger shining red on his face instead of embarrassment. Just when I thought he might drop of an aneurism, Justin forced himself to leave, back rigid and eyes wide with shock as he disappeared behind the curtain. My playfulness dissolving, a genuine smile replaced my smirk as I watched him depart. Justin looked sort of funny when he was embarrassed.

I shifted my eyes over to my father's face, which was now expressing a look between condescendence and outright annoyance. He was huffing and puffing. It was taking all of him not to break out into a lecture.

He wasn't happy. But there wasn't anything he could say that would kill my buzz.

* * *

><p>As I slowly fell back down to Sera, small aches and pains made their ways back into my system, but only slightly so. I was taken out of my ratty clothes and given new ones, a simple and sterile set of gray sweats and a t-shirt. Unfortunately, I would have to give them back when I was discharged.<p>

With my father to my right and Marcus to my left, they took turns asking simple questions about the mission, ranging from serious to out-right teasing. Marcus got a kick out of how we dealt with the Boomer. My father didn't.

With the fog leaving my mind, I was simply trying to make the transition back into "down time" mode. A day before I'd been fighting for my life. Now I was joking around with my dad and nursing wounds.

It was only when Hayman walked into my room for another check-up that I even considered our troubles had yet to be completed.

She was mumbling, as always, about something recently that had lit her fuse. There was an extra bite in her tone, and a bit more hostility in her old eyes. Once she finishes observing the stitches at my side and observing my pupils, she straightened with a none-too happy grimace.

"Another visitor for you," she bit out, eyes shifting towards the closed curtains. "Seems you're popular with the boys, Private."

Before I could ask who the visitor was, Chairman Prescott parted the white sheets that hung from the ceiling, a sudden entrance that made me jolt from shock.

"Five minutes," Hayman ordered, giving a glare to all in the room but me. "Then I want all of you out. My patient needs rest and she can't do it with you brutes flocking around like sheep." With that, she rushed from the room, taking her fury with her.

And then Prescott took a step closer to my bed, his gaze meeting none other than mine.

"It's good to see you getting better, Private," he told me neutrally, a single eyebrow raising in calculation. "You take after your father on the battlefield, I hear."

Biting the inside of my cheek, my throat tightened in silence as I resisted the urge to tell him to get to the point. It was foolish to engage in small talk when it was so obviously not the reason for his visit.

My father inched closer to my side. "Thanks, sir," he said levelly. "She's lucky she's alive."

Though I may have imagined it, I swear I caught Marcus giving him a warning glance.

"Certainly, soldier," Prescott answered, his steel gaze shifting to my fathers. "As are we. I see a lot of potential in Private Santiago. She'll grow to be a large asset to the COG."

I may have also imagined this, but it seemed as though Prescott's armor chipped temporarily as he narrowed his eyes to emphasize his words.

"Now, as I hate to be the one to separate you three for the time being," Prescott continued, his usual, cool exterior returning. "I must ask that I speak with Miss Santiago here for a moment. Privately."

My father and Marcus shared an uneasy look, but couldn't argue. Swallowing and clenching his jaw, my father bent down quickly to give me a kiss on the forehead, forcing my cheeks to flame as he and Marcus begrudgingly slipped away.

And as they departed, suddenly I felt afraid, and terribly alone.

"Well, Private," Prescott said, walking to stand where my father had, his hands clasped behind his back. "I would like to hear about the mission. Start to finish. Every detail."

The way he towered over me gave me a sinking feeling, but I gulped down my nerves and did as I was told. I'd told him about the chopper ride. I'd told him about the crash. I covered the swift death of our sergeant, and the not-so-swift of our pilot. I gave him every detail I could remember, just as he'd asked. I even addressed the questions that had plague our minds; the millions of reasons why we thought the mission to be too dangerous, and pointless.

And as I finished my description, my throat nearly dry, Prescott barely gave me a second of rest, immediately jumping in with another question.

"Tell me, Private," he said, eyes pointed towards the drawn curtain as the wheels in his head turned. "As the one who lead Unit Twelve through most of their endeavors, tell me. What is your personal opinion of the mission?"

I contemplated the question momentarily, unsure. This was starting to feel like an accusation. "My…personal opinion, sir?"

"Yes, Private," Prescott answered. "Your personal opinion."

My eyes dropped to the sheets as emotions began to slowly arise. "Personally…" I began, my brow furrowing as I remembered my built up anger from the past couple of days. "Personally, sir…I thought it, the plan, the mission, the _point_…was all completed and utterly ridiculous."

I nearly covered my mouth with my hand, my eyes widening in shock as I suddenly began to internally berate myself. I couldn't believe I'd been so blunt with my answer, but damn it, he'd _asked_. The mission had been _totally_ ridiculous. A waste of resources. I suicide run. A sick task with no other purpose than to quench something as trivial and pointless as _curiosity_.

Damn it, we lost two fucking soldiers. _Two soldiers, _and for _what_?

"And tell me this, Private," Prescott went on, breaking through my inner turmoil, his voice softening eerily. "Is it your personal opinion…that ultimately drove you to abandon your mission, _and_ your orders?" He turned his shoulders to stare down at me, his gaze heavy and condescending as he waited.

And suddenly, Feral was there, hissing up my throat as a vicious comeback sizzled at the tip of my tongue.

How _dare_ he accuse me of abandoning _anything_ because of personal opinion. How _dare_ he. It was his foolishness and brashness that brought us here. Not my actions, and _certainly_ not my squad. I made decisions, decisions I never should have had to make in the first place, for the wellbeing of my squad and _nothing_ else. To even suggest that I'd forgotten about that _idiotic_ mission simply because of personal _views_-

I stopped myself. I had to before it all spilled out.

"Sir," I whispered, staring straight forward as I struggled to contain my anger. "I mean no disrespect. But any decisions that I made on the battlefield…were to right the wrong ones that had already been made."

To my satisfaction, he seemed shocked, his brow raising the tiniest bit. He probably never expected me to speak so rash, especially to him.

"And this is your reasoning, Private?" he asked, taking a step back from the bed as he prepared to leave. "This is what you claim to be the fuel to your squad's insubordination?"

The urge to snap at him rose again, but I bit my tongue. "Yes sir," I murmured, still gazing forward.

"I see," Prescott said, nodding once. "I wish you a healthy recovery, Private. New orders will be given to you and your squad soon." And as quick as that, Prescott had ended the conversation, turning his back to me as he marched towards the hanging curtain.

But before he could depart, something deep in my subconscious panicked. Without my permission, my lips parted.

"Sir!" I cried out, hand outreached towards his departing form. Chairman Prescott paused momentarily in his leave, giving me one more questioning gaze.

"Yes, Private?" he asked, his voice infinitely neutral.

"You…" I struggled, my hand lowering back to the sheets. "You have to understand," I whispered, the guilty soldier withering inside me, desperate to be understood. "You must realize. We only did what was necessary to survive."

Prescott's eyes dropped to the floor with contemplation that could almost be mistaken for regret. "Oh I understand, Private," he answered quietly, nodding his head absently as he spoke. "And perhaps you are right. Maybe it is indeed time for me to right a few of my wrongs."

And with that, Chairman Prescott was gone, his wide shoulders disappearing behind the white sheets, leaving me alone, worried, and terribly confused.

* * *

><p><strong>I know this was lacking in depth, but I hope you all enjoyed the casual, lighthearted update. Because it won't be like this for long. And I promise to do my best to <strong>_**never**_** let the wait get this long again (especially with my first year of college complete, and a large portion of the next chapter already complete.)**

**A special thanks to writtenrhythm for great medical insight on the last chapter. I get carried away sometimes, but she always manages to keep me focused!**

**There's some crazy stuff coming guys, I promise. Stay tuned, be patient with me, and as always, please tell me what you think :)**


	17. Chapter 17

**Holy hell. Writing sure has been put on the back burner lately, especially with college and other life things getting in the way. I'll be honest, it just doesn't come as easy as it used to.**

**Anyways, there's a lot of Melanie's POV in this chapter, but it's totally necessary, and totally worth it. Strap yourselves in, everybody. I'm throwing some drama your way. **

**Enjoy.**

**P.S. I experienced some technical difficulties uploading this. Please let me know if anything seems wrong!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seventeen: Rolling With The Punches<strong>

**Justin**

I never thought I'd pick up the habit of biting my fingernails, but I'd be a liar if I said I had any cuticles left at the end of the day. I'd lingered outside of the hospital as much as I could without looking strange to others, but when Melanie's father and Sergeant Fenix came marching out with angry looks on their faces, I was honestly too scared to approach them. All I could do was wait out the rest of the night, and hope that I'd be allowed to visit tomorrow.

As I trudged exhaustedly back to my barrack, I was deep in though, my eyes at my feet as I mulled over everything that had happened during the last few days.

I had never once regretted my decision to join the COG. Never. But even so, those past few days had really gotten me thinking.

Did the COG _really_ have our best interest in mind when they sent us out to that wasteland? Yeah, I know, the COG needed to do anything they thought necessary, and they'd exercised that practice thoroughly in the past. But honestly, I think all of us thought that mission to be anything _but_ necessary.

Then again, who was I to question anything a higher up asked me to do? This was the military after all, and no one had forced me to sign the dotted line. Sure, my choices had been pretty limited then, but still.

I sighed harshly, pinching the bridge of my nose before unlocking the door to my room. My firm bed was calling me, and it took me only seconds to rid myself of my boots and plant myself facedown in my sheets.

I groaned. "What the _hell_," I muttered into my pillow. "I don't know what to think anymore."

I really needed to talk to Mel. She'd know what to do. Or, at least she'd know what to say to calm me down.

Squeezing my eyes tightly shut, I flinched as I was suddenly assaulted by the memory of her limp body sprawled atop a pile of rubble.

"Argh!" I cried, abruptly shooting back out of bed to sit at its edge. I let my face fall into my hands, utterly confused at the twisting anxiety in my stomach. What in the hell was wrong with me? I couldn't shake it! No matter how many miles I put in between me and the battlefield, I just couldn't seem to change my mindset.

Decarlo was dead, along with that other woman who had simply been doing her job. That's two soldiers. Two soldiers who would never see the light of day again because of some absurd intel request. Two soldiers who lost their lives for nothing.

It had almost been three.

As I ran both of my hands through my hair, I gripped it momentarily, desperately, before letting my fingers go limp.

What would I have done? How would I have even kept going if she had died out there, on my watch?

I'd promised her. On that first day. I'd shaken her hand and I'd promised that I'd always have her back no matter what. And where was I this time? Sitting back, watching, as she put her life on the line for another squad mate? It would never be cowardice, but heroics that got her killed. She felt like she needed to save everyone. To do everything by herself.

_Because before she met you, there was no one _but _herself._

I understood that. I did. Everybody had lost someone. Most had lost it all. But still, even with nothing, there was _something_ in her blood that drove her forward. Something that ignited in her eyes when the bullets started to fly. Something that took hold of her thoughts, spiked her adrenaline and guided her actions during the worst of times. _Something_ that made her think jumping in front of a grenade for _Hunter Abel_ was a _good idea-_

My eyes drooping, I pressed the heels of my hands against them and slumped back into my bed. I took a few deep breaths. That was enough morbid thinking for one night.

* * *

><p>After the first night, time passed by slowly, spaces of boredom and normal patrols clogging my day and numbing my brain. Hunter and Finn stood as my partners, not that I needed them. Guarding the gate paled pathetically to the battlefield. At the end of my first morning shift, I knew I was going mad. Because I'd started missing the intense rush of shooting for my life.<p>

I'd been allowed to visit Mel, but only for a few minutes, and under the gleaming eyes of her father. Something gave me the idea that he hated me, but I did my best to ignore him, as Melanie requested. Embarrassingly, I admitted to myself that seeing her face had melted the stress in my shoulders like snow in mid Thaw.

Poetic, I know.

During my highly uneventful patrolling, I'd had a lot of time to think to myself. About the most random things. And let me just say, too much thinking could drive a man insane. There was no one to talk to! No one to snap me out of it when I drifted off. No one to keep me entertained. Well, at least no one I was willing to be entertained by.

How many days had Mel been in the hospital? Oh yeah. Only two.

I needed to get some new friends or something. But I guess _she_ was the one who made everything else in the world bearable. I just wanted Melanie to be better so we could make fun of Hunter and take turns guessing what Finn was thinking about like we used to. Because honestly, patrolling, talking, and _life_ were all pretty damn boring without her.

See. It's weird things like _that_ that come up when I've got too much thinking time on my hands.

* * *

><p><strong>Melanie<strong>

Why. Why would they put a clock in here. A clock the _ticks_, no less.

That clock would be the death of me. It would drive me mad with its _tick, tick, tick_ and its glacial pace and its undying and consistent show of how _slow_ time was passing in this ungodly hospital.

I was feeling better. Still weak. Still tired. But better. There was no reason for them to keep me here. Couldn't I ride out the rest of my down time in my barrack? Or patrolling? Nothing ever happened anyways. I'd willingly stand at the front of the base if it got me out of this damn bed.

With so much time on my hands, I worried a lot. I had a strange, uneasy feeling crawling around in my stomach, and I wasn't a hundred percent sure why. It would hit me in waves sometimes, especially after my father left at the end of daily visiting hours. He took his presence, along with my calm, with him. It just felt _wrong_, sitting back in a hospital bed when a world war raged. Or not being out with my squad or my father when they were doing who knows what.

On the morning of day three, Doctor Hayman seemed a bit more frigid than usual, her eyes in permanent slits as she gave me my daily check-up. Tight-lipped, she'd insisted I'd be able to leave on day four if the stitches at my hip continued to hold without any signs of infection, but only if I continued to rest for the next couple of weeks, and only if I'd visit her regularly throughout the duration of my downtime.

I suddenly found myself wondering which walls would be more interesting to stare at: the walls of the hospital, or the ones in my barrack?

At least Justin would be able to make the latter more interesting. I felt my mind wonder to what he was up to.

I didn't go too far down that road, however, because Hayman was poking her head around my curtain with a deep scowl on her face. "Visitor," she told me, obviously none too pleased with the idea.

When her face disappeared, confusion washed over me. It wasn't visiting hours yet, and so far Hayman had been extremely adamant about them. Stiffly, I sat up straight in my bed as I waited.

Seconds later, a male soldier walked in, dressed in a formal COG uniform and so tall I thought his head may graze the ceiling. My breath caught in my throat. I suddenly felt small.

Though obviously a soldier, he lacked qualities that the rest of my comrades and I had. He looked clean, his haircut sharp, his uniform wrinkle-free. And most noticeable of all, he looked well rested.

This man sat behind a desk most of his day.

"Private Melanie Santiago," he addressed me in a deep voice, his hands clasped behind his back. "I've been ordered to deliver your new assignment."

I blinked. "New assignment, sir?" I inquired. "I've just been ordered another two weeks of bed rest." Not that I wouldn't happily give them up to somebody else.

His dark eyes stayed cold. "You have your orders, as I have mine. I'm simply the messenger." Then, he unclasped his hands from behind his back, revealing a white envelope. Without another word, he handed me the letter, gave a small nod of his head, and then swiftly turned to leave. I sat quietly as I watched his departure, the envelope hanging heavily in my fingers.

I sat silently for a minute before slipping a finger under the envelope flap to rip it open, confusion and anxiousness settling in my brain. The paper tore open, and I retrieved the letter, folded over three times, from the inside. Slowly, as though my COG career depended on it, I began to read.

After the first read through, I was still confused. The letter made no sense. More diligently, I read it again.

The second time, I did better. The words began to register in my mind, and take form.

The third time, it hit home, and I hadn't reached the end before I was shaking.

_Private Melanie Santiago, _the letter formally began.

_Due to recent events, your place in the Coalition of Ordered Governments has been evaluated. It has been decided that because of your current condition, a frontline position is no longer fitting._

_As your female responsibility towards humanity, you will now be assigned for repopulation purposes. Your options are standard law. You may choose a male partner, a male can be chosen for you, or you may be relocated to a repopulation facility._

_You will be given a 30-day contemplation period. After this period is over, you will be assigned to where the Coalition believes is best for you. _

_Thank you for your service and cooperation,_

_Chairman Richard Prescott_

_Coalition of Ordered Governments (COG)_

I sat still for a very long time. Somewhere along the line of my disbelief, I'd dropped the letter to the bed, and brought my knees up to my chest.

This wasn't happening. It couldn't be. It didn't even make sense. I was an active soldier of the COG, and they weren't supposed to drop you like a sack of bricks just because they'd decided they didn't need me anymore.

They _did_ need me. Soldiers died left and right, and it's not like they were sprouting out of the ground like fucking Locust.

_Your place in the Coalition of Ordered Governments has been evaluated_. Bullshit.

I felt an animalistic rage bubble in my chest.

Total and utter _bullshit_.

How _dare_ they do this to me. After I'd laid my life on the line hundreds of times for them, under _their_ orders. After I spilled my blood, sweat and tears onto the battlefield for _their_ cause. And after they sent me and my squad on a god_damn_ suicide run out in the middle of nowhere!

He's going to throw _this_ in my face? _Fuck_ this!

Before I knew it, I'd grasped the letter and thrown my legs over to the side of the bed. I refused to stay there, in that COG hospital, a minute longer.

* * *

><p><strong>Dom<strong>

"Tap out, Baird!" I demanded smugly. I could feel the huge grin on my face. "Do it! I'll break it, dude!"

Baird's face was bright red and smashed against the mats. I had his right arm in a hold, tugging it back and up towards his head as I held him still with my knees at his back. He was squirming painfully, cussing and growling at me.

"Fuck you, Santiago!" he snarled, attempting to free his arm again. I gave it a good yank. "Agh! Stop it, you dick!"

"Tap out!" I ordered again. "I've got you pinned, man, you're not going anywhere."

Baird sighed angrily into the floor. "You sound pretty confident for a high school drop out," he grunted, trying to reach me with his free arm.

I wrapped a hand around his free wrist. "And you look pretty hopeless for a guy who's supposed to be a genius," I retorted.

This went on for a few more minutes, his arrogance at an all time high as I continued to strain the muscles in his right arm. Marcus and Cole had finished up off to the side, both standing patiently with their arms crossed as they watched Baird struggle.

"Last call, Baird," I teased. "Tap out now or I'll _choke_ you out."

He snarled. "I think it's time to knock you off of your high chair, _Santiago_."

"What?" I laughed confidently. "_You _gonna do it?" I torqued his arm back for emphasis.

"Maybe," he started, wincing as he attempting to catch friction against the mat with his feet. "Maybe I'll ask your daughter for help. Get her to bat those eyelashes at you and put you under her spell."

I felt myself glare.

"Watch your mouth, Damon!" Cole joked from the side. "I wouldn't go too far down that road. You're not in the best position, if you ask me!"

"Oooh, touchy subject?" Baird asked snidely, his breathing labored. "Too embarrassed to address how tightly she's got you wrapped around her finger?"

Still glaring, I smirked. "You seem to be under the impression that _as her father_, I actually have a choice in the matter."

Baird continued to mouth off. "And _you _seem to be under the impression that all fathers give a shit!" Then he adjusted his tone, almost becoming conversational. "But back to the point. You're not the _only_ one she's got the attention of."

My glare turned vicious. "Baird…" I said in warning. My grasped on his arm tightened.

"Don't worry, it's not your fault," he went on. "It happens to the best of 'em. Now you'll just have to watch as she runs off to her _boy toy_ instead of you. Of course, they'll probably do a whole lot more than _talk_-"

His rant suddenly broke off as I gave his arm a single, violent tug. He gave a strangled sound, ripped his left arm free and began to smack the mat repeatedly until I let him go.

Baird groaned loudly into the mat. "You bitch," he mumbled, lying still for a few moments as I stood. Marcus and Cole walked over to gaze down at him, very little empathy on their faces.

"You knew what was comin', Damon," Cole sighed, kneeling down to nudge Baird and help him stand. Baird glowered at me as he did.

"Satisfied?" he accused, rotating his arm at the shoulder as he attempting to ease away the lingering ache. "You've got a worse temper than she does."

"_Everyone's _got a temper around you, Baird," Marcus said, giving him a sideways glance. "You're special that way."

Baird's eyes narrowed to slits. "Yeah, _hardy har har_, motherfuckers. Isn't it time for you to visit go your _spawn_, Santiago? Maybe today you can give her a crash course over sexual education. Or you can just get Miller to do it."

As much as the desire to slam him back down into the mats burned, he was right. Visiting hours were coming up.

Begrudgingly, I made the decision to kick his ass afterwards.

"Let's get a move on, ladies!" Cole ordered, clapping Baird and I on the back as he and Marcus began their way towards the exit. I gave Baird one more vicious glare, and then we followed after, jogging lightly to catch up.

* * *

><p>We'd hardly even walked through the entrance of the hospital when Dr. Hayman was in our faces, a grimace embedded on her face as she started snarling at us.<p>

"Alright you _cretins_," she growled, glaring up at all of us. "You better not have anything to do with this, or you'll all be leaving with a boot _implanted_ in your asses."

Baird was the first to retort, as always. "Sounds like _you've _already got one," he snapped immediately. "What's your problem?"

Hayman's gaze narrowed, but she looked away, suddenly resigned. "Let me guess," she said, crossing her arms. "She didn't come running to you idiots, either?"

I stepped forward. "_What_? What's that supposed to mean?"

Hayman was suddenly bored with us. "The Santiago girl's up and gone," she recited. "Disappeared about an hour ago. We thought she may be with you, but I guess not."

I felt my blood begin to simmer. "_Gone_? What does-what are you even saying? You let her _walk out_?!"

Hayman shot a vicious look at me. "What am I, a babysitter? I've got more shit to deal with than keeping an eye on you kid, soldier. She's an adult, I wouldn't have tried to stop her if I had the chance anyways. I've got far more important responsibilities on my shoulders! Now," Hayman whirled and put her back to us. "Get out of my hospital. I've got things to do." Not even seconds passed before a nurse suddenly stole Hayman's attention from us, drawing more shouts from her for a completely different reason. They marched down the hallway, leaving me and the rest of Delta with cryptic expressions on our faces.

I didn't waste any time. Spinning on my heel, I jogged out of the hospital, Marcus, Cole and Baird following right behind me.

"Dom…" Marcus undertoned, warning in his voice as he chased me down the steps. "Hold on a sec, here."

I hardly heard him at all, my eyes already scanning the immediate area as if Melanie would be there, waiting. The fact that she wasn't spiked my concern immediately. "I gotta find her, Marcus," I told him, distracted. "This isn't like her. What would spook her enough to run off? She should have come to me."

Cole stepped forward. "Well think about it," he said with reason, shrugging his shoulders. "We've been occupied for the past few hours. Who's to say she ain't looking for us now?"

"Or who's to say she doesn't want us knowing _why_ she went AWOL," Baird put in. I shot him an angry glare.

"That doesn't make any sense, Baird," I told him sharply.

"_Nothing_ makes sense until we find out the details," Marcus added, his icy stare connected thoughtfully with the ground. He shook his head slowly, a grimace forming on his face. "Damn it," he groused, putting his hands on his waist after a minute of contemplation. "Let's not waste any time, here. Split up, Delta. Find the rook so we can figure out what the hell's going on."

* * *

><p><strong>Melanie<strong>

I shook. I shook with _rage_. My fists clenched into tight, dangerous weapons at my sides as the urge to hit something burned. My eyes shifted about Delta's apartment like those of a predator, genuinely wondering how good it would feel to pulverize any object nearest to me.

I was still drunk from the bar. Drunk and _pissed_.

Nearly tripping over the corner of their worn down couch, I almost lost it then, stumbling to the middle of the room as my fury continued to climb.

_Those traitorous bastards. Those selfish, good-for-nothing, _traitorous_ bastards. _

My hands twitched as they begged to grasp a weapon. I wanted to shoot something. And surprisingly, the living target that appeared in my mind didn't have gray skin and pointed teeth.

_Calm down_, my conscious urged, quickly drowning in wrath and inebriation. I smothered it quickly. I had no desire to be _calm_.

A clumsy mess, I straggled my way into the kitchen, needing something to sooth the lingering burn of whiskey from my throat. I ducked under the sink faucet ready to douse myself, when an empty turn of its handle resulted in nothing. I scowled. Of fucking course the water wasn't working.

A rattling came from the front room. The door swung open, then slammed back shut.

"Melanie?!" My father called out, his keening anxiousness resonating painfully through my ears. I hunched over the sink with my eyes screwed shut, and clamped my hands to the sides of my head.

_No, no, no, no, no. _His voice burned. It burned worse than the rage.

"Mel!" he tried again, loudly stomping around until I heard his heavy feet stop at the entrance of the kitchen.

His breathing labored, my father's tone instantly wilted at the site of me.

"Sweetheart?" he inquired cautiously, the worry in his voice agonizing. "Melanie. Baby, are you okay?" His warm hand gripped at my side to turn me around.

My insides battled. They clashed, constantly in flux, as the desire to collapse in his arms suddenly surged.

_Emotions_. Hundreds of them stormed in my chest, and none of them would cooperate.

The alcohol, and the rage, powered through stronger than ever.

"_Don't_," I hissed, whirling around only to side step him into another corner of the tiny kitchen, putting as much space between us as possible. The action alone sent my head spinning. "There's nothing wrong with me, I'm fine."

_What an obvious, terrible lie. _

My father's outreached hand dropped slowly to his side, and he took on a guarded expression. "Mel," he said, brow furrowing. "What were you thinking, leaving the hospital like that? Why are you here? Everyone's been _looking _for you." Then he examined me closely, my posture, my hunched shoulders and emotionally hazed expression. He sniffed the air.

"Are you _drunk_?" he accused, anger and frustrating igniting in his eyes.

"_Bin_go," I muttered. "You've got a sharp eye."

His mouth opened as he struggled to choose where to start. Angry lecture? Reprimand? Questions about my wellbeing? About my strange behavior? I brushed past him before he made a decision.

"Wait," he told me, a wavering order. "Mel, _wait_." He turned as I walked aimlessly towards the living room, stumbling foolishly as I did.

"I'm _not_ going back to the hospital," I said, bracing my hand against the wall farthest from him. The room continued to spin, and I let my head hang low. "_Fuck_ that hospital."

My father walked after me, trying a different approach. "Melanie, baby," he urged softly. "I can't help you until you tell me what's wrong."

"I don't need _help_," I snapped ferociously, turning my head to glare at him. His concern was making everything worse. "I've gotten through life pretty _god damn_ well without it!"

He flinched at that, at me, at the hostility I put forth. There was an old pain deep in his eyes, and suddenly, my emotions were overflowing in my chest, clawing desperately for an outlet.

My voiced reduced to a hush. "I should have known things were too good to be true," I murmured thickly. "That it was only a matter of time before this was _taken_ from me."

As I turned to brace my back against the wall, hot tears spilled over and began flowing down my cheeks. I stared at my father's desperate expression, my legs trembling. "I trusted them," I breathed, sorrow clenching in my chest. "I trusted them, and _this_ is what I got in return." Then my hands covered my face, and I broke down, pathetically sliding down to the floor in a pool of raging intoxication and conflict.

My father was there instantly, on his knees in front of me, his heated palms cupping my cheeks. He forced me to look at him.

"_Melanie_," he whispered fiercely, his dark eyes burning into mine. "Tell me what's going on. Right now. _Talk to me_." His fingers were urgent, hastily wiping the moister from my eyes as soon as it would appear.

I couldn't even hope to find my voice. Instead, I removed his hands from my face, and then reached into my pocket to pull out the weathered and tattered letter there. Giving me a questioning look, he quickly plucked it from my hands, and began reading furiously.

"What is this?" he asked after a moment, disbelief coloring his face as he waved the letter in front of him. "Melanie, what _is_ this?"

I answered him silently, my eyes meeting his with a leveling, tearful glare.

My father could only stare back. His eyes stayed wide, and unseeing, for a very long time. So long that my tears ran out. They began drying on my skin as I watched him try his best to process the situation in his brain. As he was consumed by shock, just as I had been.

_Now kids, _Feral whispered darkly in the back of my subconscious. _In the Santiago family, what step comes next after shock?_

Suddenly, and viciously, my father finally responded, standing from his knees as the letter feel from his fingers. Then, after taking a moment fume, he let out a roar of fury before sending a voracious punch through the wall, located somewhere up above my head.

My shoulders shaking, all I had the strength to do was flinch. My tears building again, I buried my face into my arms, and let out a soft, pathetic cry.

* * *

><p><strong>Well that was a fun ride. <strong>

**This chapter was a tiny bit shorter than the others, but I decided to end it there so I could just **_**post the damn thing**_**. Good luck to anyone starting school again, as I have. I know it can be stressful, **_**believe me**_**, but just take it one day at a time and all that. Oh, and you know, read fanfiction. **

**Thanks again for all of your lovely, continued support. You guys are amazing! **


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